DOSE:		smoked	Cannabis	(plant material)
		smoked	Tobacco	(dried)
		smoked	PCP	(liquid)
		insufflated	Ketamine	(powder / crystals)

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

I was in an extremely happy state of mind, preparing for a 9 hour drive to West Virginia, from New York, with my boyfriend, 2 homeless raver aquaintances, and this girl I just met... in her compact car. We were off to a 3 day rave in the mountains... the sister party to one of the best raves I've ever been to in all my life. I thought I wasn't going to find a ride, but as luck would have it, the girl was down to drive to this party with a bunch of people she'd never met before, enticed by the offer of free drugs.

So, we set off, equipped with no food or drinks, just a bunch of drugs. A vial of liquid PCP, several cigars, an 1/8 of fluffy nuggs, and a bunch of powder Ketamine. 'Nuff sed.

We have been on the road for about 2 hours, the scenery was growing quite boring, and the herb we'd smoked before was wearing off. We decided to roll up a blunt (Plenty-O-Pot, rolled in a cigar, slow burning and good to be passed for several rounds) dip it in PCP, smoke it up, alongside a cigarette dipped in PCP. I had been smoking dust personally, for around 4 years, with no majorly scary episodes. As I was dipping the blunt in the PCP, I accidentally dropped it in the vial, causing it to soak up plenty more than intended... my fingers were too short to retrieve it, so after a minute of groping awkwardly, like a freshman on a first date, I fished it out with a safety pin. Oops! I was messed up after smoking that amount, but overall coherent. Hey, tolerance is a bitch, and you never do know what to expect when it comes to PCP dosages. Anyways, we took several bumps of Ketamine (Special K) each (except for the driver, who was complaining about having to stay sober) and turned up the music. We each were deep in thought for about 30 minutes-1 hour. Nothing too unusual. As we began to come down, the topic became 'Can I get another bump? Wanna smoke some more?'

This time, we rolled up another blunt of hydro, and I carefully dipped only about the top inch or less of the blunt in the PCP. I lit it up, and after just 2 pulls, I felt what I should have felt off the first blunt hit me like a sack of flour. I bumped a fat pile of K and began to enjoy myself. I was thinking about the party, how much fun I'd had the year before, how I was looking forward to leaving the city for a few days...

Night had set in, the altitude was rising, the air outside was crisp. The windows were cracked the wind was howling, and some Terror-core/Speedkore (a hybrid of hard bass, raunchy lyrics, screams and violent samples at a rate of over 400 beats per minute) was blasting. I love drum and bass music, and the music was beginning to get to me. I asked to change the music, but nobody would. Defeated, I sat back, repulsed by the music. It had set a dark feeling to the car ride. The driver had a pissed off look on his face, because he was sober, and speeding, along at about 110 MPH. I began to observe everyone else in the car. It seemed as if the girl we'd never met beforehand had been informed of something I hadn't been. She has this twisted smile on her face and she began to seem evil to me. Like a troll who spoke with the voice of a Carebear.

Both homeless ravers were pierced, wearing black, and were looking very hostile. The one who was driving apeared to be the ring leader, and gave me a vibe that he was in touch with Satan himself. Receiving messages through an invisible gut wire. The others in the car were his satanic followers. Everyone in the car was planning on committing mass suicide that night to the furious sounds of the music... WHY? in search of the ultimate high... a combination only achieved by the adrenaline of death, falling off a cliff, and hardkore amounts of drugs. The fact that it was the longest night of summer (summer solstice) was all the evidence I needed to convince me that my hypothesis was correct. [Erowid note: in the Northern Hemisphere, Summer Solstice is the shortest night of summer] I searched my boyfriend's face for a sign if he was in on it/ or naive... he seemed to be so into the music I was convinced that they had hypnotized him by the sounds. He was going with the plan... and he did not give a rat's ass about me anymore, though we were together for a year and a half.

What was my role? The SACRIFICE. I'm not one to panic, get delusions, or be paranoid. In fact, I do have a vivid imagination, but I can always draw the line between reality and my subconscious. I was a pro at handling myself when on drugs. But now, all the times I'd done crazy things were haunting me. I felt as though it was the end for me, and I hadn't fulfilled the mission of my life. I had gotten sidetracked by drugs, and now it was too late. In my mind, I was coming to grips with my death. I began to think about how the impact of the car would feel when we hit. I felt us going up higher and higher into the mountains, the road was curving... the car felt like we were doing about 150 MPH, although I knew it couldn't have been more than 100. I couldn't ask questions... they would turn on me... and torture me into submission. I gave up on everything, and began to pray. I wanted so bad to be at home with my parents. I thought about all the times I'd left for days to go party and get fucked up... and how this was the final time.

My head began to hurt, my chest was having trouble breathing. I had to use all my power to sit quietly and pretend to have fun when all I wanted to do was cry hysterically. I was too paranoid to ask my boyfriend if I was imagining things. I felt the impact of the car crash several times in my mind, but also in my body. The most intense pain in my recent memory. I felt death grip me in a flood of agony. The cult had gotten me, and I was going to die. And I thought they were cool. After about 2 hours of this, I came to grips with the situation, and as soon as I had calmly realized I was going to die, I started coming down. We changed the music to uplifting trance (FINALLY!!!!) and the car slowed down. We took a side road to smoke another joint. Everything fell back into place. We arrived safely early the next morning. In the back of my mind, I knew it was a bad trip, but I felt proud of how I was able to come to terms with dying. Not an easy thing to do.

The lesson learned? Keep drugs in moderation. Hardkore combinations were not meant to be consumed in the confines of a tiny car on long drives. Know who you are with. Be comfortable with them, too. Being a crackheaded raver was fun, but it gave me no true happiness in the end. Everyone I know who does drugs either moderately or like a rock star have all had their bad experiences. Many have given up the lifestyle. There's stuff that's more important out there, and it's different for everyone. You are who you need to rely on... take responsibilty for yourself, give love to others, be kind to everyone. Be generous to others (I don't mean by handing a 14 year old kid a sheet of acid) and live honestly. Find things in your life that give you happiness besides drugs. Develop your talents, because the seeds you sow will be alot better to eat than a diet of drugs and lies. In the end, it all builds up... release and self reliance feel good.

Exp Year: 2000	ExpID: 10403
Gender: Female
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Sep 10, 2004	Views: 73,188
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Ketamine (31), PCP (113) : Small Group (2-9) (17), Bad Trips (6), Combinations (3)