1. Making a phone call.
I had to learn the hard way that when you’re on acid, phone calls aren’t as easy as they seem. Turns out, people can’t see you on the phone and have no way of knowing how absolutely fucked you are. And the few seconds you spend in silence are closer to half a minute, and leave people wondering what the hell is wrong with you. Thank god I didn’t learn this the really really hard way, which would have been by calling my parents.
2. Being in an enclosed space.
My friends and I dropped acid, and caught a train because we figured it was safer than driving. We didn’t bank on the acid hitting us in the middle of the hour-long journey though, and we spent half an hour trying to act straight and knowing we were failing miserably because we couldn’t stop shaking our damn legs. We actually became those weirdos people cross the street to avoid.
We ended up ditching the train early to puke our guts up (side note: do not accept acid from your shady friend’s even shadier friend) and because I couldn’t shut up about “the ants carrying blood around my body and making patterns,” and people were starting to stare. Yeah, not cool in public.
3. Buying something in a shop.
On one acid adventure, my friends and I decided the acid was a little too rough, and we should mix our stashed vodka with something so we could gulp it down and get a handle on our sanity. Except we didn’t realise that attempting to make a purchase is a whole other trip in itself, and we ended up almost throwing a whole bunch of stuff on the counter in front of this terrified guy, before taking it all off again and choosing other shit to buy. After I figured out how to pay him without touching his hands (because who knew where he’d been or whether his fingers had teeth, right?) we got the hell out of there.
My friend had a similar experience when we sent her off on her own to buy cigarettes, and she came back staring at the ceiling and almost crying because people were “asking her stuff.” We hauled ass away from the normal people, and stood under an overpass, trying to convince my boyfriend he really didn’t need to take his pants off.
4. Controlling your emotions.
My boyfriend had this great idea that the next time he took acid, he wanted it to be at a theme park. Except when we got there, high as can be, he saw a sign saying the rollercoaster he wanted to go on was closed that day. I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to control a 26-year-old man who is fucked on acid, crying in public about a rollercoaster, but it’s a shitty task. Believe me.
5. Driving a car.
Don’t call your questionable friends to rescue you from the trip you’ve been trying to sober up from all day. All she’ll do is rock up in her car, take your leftover tabs, puke her guts up and pass out in the backseat.
Which leaves you to get all your friends into the car, and somehow sober yourself up enough to drive a strange car on a limited license for two hours on a busy highway. I still don’t know if it was the absolute fear of killing all my friends at once, or the total paranoia of being pulled over by the cops that kept me driving like a normal person all the way home. It was the most fucked and dangerous thing I’ve ever done, and I chain smoked what must’ve been a whole packet just to “keep myself busy.” I’m pretty sure that car ride alone damaged my lungs so badly that I’ll never be called upon as a lung donor.
6. Sobering up.
Sobering up from acid is the hardest thing to do, especially if you’re riding out a really amazing trip. The last thing you wanna do is tuck yourself up in bed and go back to normal, and you’ll spend a few hours in bed, hiding your laughter from the other responsible people who live in your house.
But if you’ve had a really rough trip and you just want it to end, this is when it drags on the worst and all you wanna do is go back to being normal and not seeing every blade of grass reaching out to touch you. And when your fucked up friend decides she doesn’t like your escape route (i.e. enough alcohol to wash the acid away) and chucks your drink into oncoming traffic, you’re well and truly screwed. You’ve got no choice but to ride it out, try not to cry (see number 4) and sober up the long way. My advice? Get into any bed you can ASAP and go the fuck to sleep, and pray that patterns on the bedcover have stopped moving when you wake up.