DOSE:

18 in

oral

Cacti - T. pachanoi

(liquid)

BODY WEIGHT:

150 lb

A True First Time

Though I had experimented with mescaline and LSA in the past, the effects my previous trips had conjured would generally be considered to have not strayed beyond the one-star range. I knew that, though I had very much enjoyed those previous instances, I had merely dipped a big toe into what psychedelics have to offer.

After today it would be safe to say that, if nothing else, the rest of my toes are wet.

I’m living in downtown Chicago at the moment, in an apartment I share with my mom. It was about 7:30 in the morning when I downed the gunk. If anybody knows of a way to make cactus juice palatable I’d like to hear it, since I doctored mine six ways from Sunday and it was still sludge. Waited until the nausea had died down enough to force down some cereal, scribbled a note to my mom saying a friend had invited me out for the day, and took off with a stocked messenger bag slung over my shoulder. The morning was warm and humid but not altogether unpleasant, the streets still fairly empty as I made my way to the train station. By the time I got on the west-bound Green Line I was starting to feel the effects, which manifested themselves mainly as a fascination with my surroundings and a general dreaminess that would continue in one form or another throughout the rest of the trip. It was that feeling that made the plants at the Garfield Park Conservatory utterly fascinating, to the point where I walked through the building twice just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything. In the cactus house I sat cross-legged and watched tiny red mites scuttle over the rocks, trying my best to put myself in their point of view, grinning at the thought of looking up and seeing a giant face with dilated pupils looking down on you.

By the time I had left I started to wonder if I had already begun coming down, a notion that was dismissed on the train ride back downtown when I caught myself starting at the passing reflection of the streak-by city for minutes on end. My initial plan was to go to the Art Institute, but for some reason I was drawn through Millennium and Maggie Daley Park, feeling empathetic towards the kids who shouted and ran all around me and wishing desperately that I could enjoy them in play for a little while. Two kids in particular caught my attention as I walked – one who, in an apparent attempt to catch his father’s attention, shouted, “I’m sweating! I’m sweating!”

“You’re sweating?” The man said, finally taking notice. “That means you’re having a good day.”

“Yes!” The boy exclaimed as he took off in a new direction.

The other I saw when his family – who I had been walking alongside at the time – called out his name. A boy who would’ve been a dead ringer for me at ten (were it not for the normal-sized front teeth and neat hair) sat up a few feet away, interrupted from laying out on a ledge and staring up at the clouds. “You’re a weirdo,” the boy’s sister remarked, not unkindly, as he smiled sheepishly and got up to join them. I looked away for fear of being caught grinning ear-to-ear.

I ended up walking past the museum as the second stage of the trip took hold. Though the world had been fascinating for hours there was now a sort of urgency to everything, the cactus – wide-eyed and giddy – constantly pushing me forward, keeping my feet moving as though of their own volition, let’s go, let’s go, explore, EXPLORE! The dreaminess intensified as well – during one of the brief breaks I could force myself to take I turned and looked at the sight spread out before me, half-convinced that I must be in a dream. After all, I chuckled silently as I gazed at the monolithic skyscrapers in the distance and the happy children playing in the green spaces that sat in their shadows, there’s no way anything this ridiculous could be real.

Eventually I found an opportunity to let loose with some of the nervous energy that walking alone had not been able to expend, finding a wide, open lawn with practically nobody on it. I sat down my bad, bounced on my heels for a moment…and then took off running, running just to be running, exultant in the ground streaking beneath me and the wind whistling past me and the pounding of my heart thumping in my ears. I ran until I was out of breath – then waited a few moments, turned on my heel, and sprinted back in the direction I had come. I was about five or six steps into my second dash when I realized that I was falling. No panic or fear accompanied this realization. “Huh,” my thoughts basically were. “Guess I’m falling now.” A moment later – grass-stained from my knees to my elbows – I sat panting in the middle of the lawn, feeling more contented with…EVERYTHING than I had in quite some time.

Once I’d caught my breath I got up and walked towards Buckingham Fountain, not resting until I’d found a bench near the magnificent sculpture. I plopped myself down and soaked in the sun that had started peeking its way through the clouds, eventually casting my eyes towards the brickwork on the ground. A few seconds later something peculiar happened. The gaps in the bricks started to narrow and widen, narrow and widen, narrow and widen, moving in a regular rhythm while the ground all around them took on a wavy countenance as though it were underwater.

The earth was BREATHING.

“Holy fuck,” I laughed, glad I wasn’t within earshot of the many tourists surrounding the fountain. I thought I had seen something on my deepest LSA trip, but there was no mistaking this for a passing illusion. Honest-to-God open-eye visuals. I sat there, entranced, until the energy bubbling within me became too much to bear and my feet started moving of their own volition once more. I decided that now might be a good time to head to the Art Institute, but I was unfortunately unable to get in. Today of all days they check to see that I’m actually the cardholder. It was just as well for reasons that I’ll get into in a minute. Ducked for a minute into one of the gardens alongside the museum just as the sun was coming out from behind the clouds, the greenery and sculpture in that moment so beautiful to me that I nearly started crying on the spot. Composed myself long enough to find a bench, where I sat staring at the ground and watched in move in waves beneath my feet. Couldn’t even feel any annoyance towards the pigeon who strutted in my line of sight and broke my concentration – on the contrary, I was immediately interested in the tag hung around its leg and in who might be studying my plump little feathered friend. For no reason other than that they seemed knowledgeable – they were feeding the pigeons and recording them with their iPhone – I walked up to a couple, greeted them, and asked if they knew who might be doing research on pigeons in the area. This is not something I would do sober, but the cactus had me feeling especially sociable, to the point where I shook off the clear discomfort in their expressions as they politely informed me that they had no idea.

I thanked them and decided instead to head to the Museum of Contemporary Art, feeling amused indifference towards the teeming crowds lining Michigan Avenue that I briskly darted through and around. It was about this time that I noticed my default expression to be that of a smile, and any efforts to wipe it off my face seemed so silly that they resulted in the mere widening of said smile. I had a check to deposit so I stopped by the bank on the way, getting in line and feeling perfectly astonished that anybody could choose to spend their time in such a banal location (discounting, for that moment, the fact that I spend 45 hours a week in an office even more boring than a bank lobby). The person in front of me was taking a while, but I didn’t mind – gave me time to stare at the carpet and marvel at the way the fringe of the green-brown carpet became like seaweed before my eyes, swaying and floating as though guided by the most gentle of tides.

“Sir?”

The teller startled me to the point that I knocked over my water bottle. She just wanted to tell me that she would be a while with the person she was helping and that I could deposit my check in the ATM out front. I – recovering nicely, I think – thanked her and said something about just coming inside because there weren’t any pens by the ATM. Another employee followed me out just the same, determined to guide me through the ATM deposit process (feeling self-conscious but still glad that she was there as her help was very much appreciated in my current state). Ducked out of there and headed to the MCA, which wasn’t able to hold my attention for long. San Pedro, I soon found out, wants to be outside. The gift shop was actually more fascinating than anything else – thanks mainly to a selection of shirts that featured some perfectly psychedelic images – but I didn’t dally and stare because of the presence of the other art-lovers in the store.

Soon I was back out on Michigan Avenue, my feet carrying me along ‘til I found a tunnel that led out to the Oak Street Beach. Put my stuff down, laid myself out in the sand, and enjoyed the sound of Lake Michigan lapping up against its shores mingling just so with the sounds of the traffic passing just a hundred feet behind me. It was perfect – or, it would’ve been were it not for the rather raucous cadre of teenage girls who had set up camp right next to me. “Porsche! Porsche, hurry up! Take one with me!” Still, it wasn’t until the breeze coming off the water grew a mite too chilly that I felt any need to move, scooping up my stuff and walking north along the lake as I wondered how much longer I could/should/would stay out. The several hours’ of walking worth of exhaustion had started to creep in. I resolved, if nothing else, to get some lunch before making a decision.

The chicken tikki masala wrap felt to my poor deprived stomach like one of the greatest things I’ve ever eaten, and suddenly it seemed like the best idea I’ve ever had to go and get some ice cream. Set off at once for Navy Pier, which was – as to be expected – teeming. Still feeling benevolent towards the kids (as I darted around the lumbering countenances that were their parents) I strolled through the ground until I got to the Haagen-Dazs and realized (thanks in part to the five dollars they wanted for a single scoop) that I really didn’t want ice cream any more. The beautiful day (which had grown only more magnificent now that the sun had properly come out and burned off the lingering humidity) and the sight of the Chicago skyline standing proud and mighty above the lake was more than enough. Did a full circuit of the pier, stopping only to look out at the water for a bit (finding, to my astonishment, that I could turn the water from blue-green to gray if I stared at it long enough). Passed a gentleman wearing a t-shirt in tye-dye colors that advised “HAVE A GOOD TRIP” while a smiley face sat blissed-out beneath the lettering. Felt for an instant like going up to the guy and asking what his day was like, but decided against it because of the teeming tourists and the resolution that the well-taken advice was enough.

It was about this time – approximately eight hours after I had dosed – that the exhaustion of the day seemed to hit my feet all at once. Felt like I had come down enough to return home without arousing suspicion, so I did some grocery shopping before heading back to my apartment, telling my mom that the earthy smear on my shorts came from a pickup game of football my friends and I had played. Ran a warm bath and sat soaking blissfully in it for a good long while before I got out and sat myself before my computer to type out this report.

Before any of that, though – I passed through Jane Addams Memorial Park on my way home, still deep enough in the trip to be astonished by the simple beauty of the blooming flowers swaying in the gentle spring breeze. It baffled me that none of the people passing on either side seemed to see what I saw, could appreciate just how magnificent everything surrounding us truly was. It was then that I felt a pang of melancholy for the first time since that morning, realizing that I – if perhaps not becoming QUITE as unseeing as the passers-by – was only a few hours away from losing the all-encompassing wonder that had made the day one of the best I’ve had in years. I might not be able to hold onto this feeling forever, I realized as my mood heartened, but I can remember what this feeling is like. And I can put that memory towards making every new day special and amazing in its own way.

That, I decided, was more than enough.

Exp Year: 2015	ExpID: 106216
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: 29
Published: Jul 2, 2020	Views: 972
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Cacti - T. pachanoi (64) : Public Space (Museum, Park, etc) (53), First Times (2)