DOSE:	10 mg	smoked	PCP
	508 mg	rectal	Ketamine

BODY WEIGHT:

120 lb

It was Thursday evening, I was planning to go to the surfcup to meet a new amphetamine connection at night and go to the surf cup on Norderney the next morning.

My friend B who wanted to introduce me to the guy came over and we ended up deciding to do it another day cause it got late. We’d just eat drugs instead and I’d have B paint my walls while I’m knocked out. What a plan!

So we started dosing. B had by then consumed quiet a bit of Amphetamine sulphate, the dosage is unknown, it was pure amphetamine sulphate salt cut with exactly 50% lactose.

He then asked me for mushrooms and I gave him my bag which contained around 18g good Mexicans. There were also 2 10mg Diazepams (Valium®) in the bag.

We then smoked some pcp together, maybe 5-10mg each, dosing isn’t all that important when the hcl salt is smoked it seems unlike intranasal dosage which can pose a serious threat for me regarding bodily discomfort in higher doses. I gave him around 3 grams of good pot and the same amount of crappy outdoor pot from the year before last to smoke in the course of the night while he’d be painting my walls.

Then while I measured this night's rectal ketamine (pharm grade racemic hcl salt, manufactured and sold in crystalline form to pharmaceutical companies) dose he mentioned how much he loved painting on 2C-B the other week. So I thought what the hell, some 2C-I won’t hurt him, he didn’t have much pcp anyway, just one hit, he shouldn’t have gotten more than 5mg into his bloodstream. So… I measured 15mg of 2C-I, put it in a pipe to shorten the duration of onset and had him smoke it, with me taking a tiny hit as well to increase the memory of the k hole which was to follow.

I then put 508mg of ketamine up the syringe along with some tap water and administered it rectally.

This is when my naked dad steps into the room (my parents’ bedroom is right below mine and the walls are thin as paper) and tells us that we’re too loud. When he left I thought, oh wtf, we were still running around, B will be a lot more quiet than the two of us were when he paints while I’m in the hole. Ok, the last thing I remember is me saying “Wow, it really does hit me like a wall”. I wake up 5 hours later, it is now around 5 or 6 am. B tells me I was awake the whole time and moving around on my bed like I was flying.

Unfortunately I only remembered the very last scene of the whole experience in which I fucked a dike I work with (also a physical therapist). The picture that B painted was of very very high quality, I am truly amazed by his skills. He didn’t get very far though, cause he later managed to tell me that he was waaay too far out (cause of the 2C-I he assumed) to draw at all. He just started an hour ago. Before that point the wall was filled with all sorts of pretty imagery created by his imagination. He basically saw the picture that he was gonna draw later on come to live before it was even there. The whole hosue was covered in moss that shimmered in all colors of the rainbow. Everything was alive. B tripped quiet a bit in his life and he claimed the visuals were just as intense as his 30mg DMT experience if not more intense.

It became apparent that he had dosed another 5 grams of Mexicans, smoked all the pot and snorted a bunch of his amphetamine, all on top of the 15mg smoked 2C-I (which equals to an oral dose of about 35mg, judging by my experience) and the PCP.

We then had a nice talk about myself and how I could seriously improve my quality of life. About how I cannot seem to focus on one thing and how this seems to be the main problem in every aspect of my life. Followed by this came a very pleasing discussion about our deep admiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's work and the possibility of Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson being a split personality. All seemed good.

At 8am I called in sick for work and got myself a doctor’s appointment. They said I should come over asap cause there were no appointments left. I got up. Fuck. K stepping. I stumbled. Almost fell. Got my shit together. Went to the doc. Told him about my tendonitis, tripped over the doorstep that leads out of his office and almost fell. Still showed clear signs of dissociative induced loss of coordinative skills. Doctor was easily fooled. Took the certificate for work and felt the reapprovement of how good an actor I really am lift my mood. Went back home.

When I got home… Shit got crazy. I walked in and saw B sitting on the breakfast table with my mum, both just waiting for me. So we started eating. I had a roll and B had a fineass croissant. He cut it in half smeared chocolate over it and started eating. He started acting weirder and weirder. In the highest of all voices (he seems kinda feminine my friend B, started working as a hairdresser and got this really gay sounding voice) he told my mum how much he loved the shampoo we gave him and told her about how he wouldn’t have time (he’s unemployed…) to go into the store and smell all different kinds of shampoo to see which is best and how grateful he is for such an energizing and nice smelling shampoo. He said all this in this totally tripped out extraordinarily high toned voice and spoke very very slowly. Clearly dissociated. I was wondering what’s going on. Was he having a flashback from last night? I’ve heard of PCP being stored in fat tissue and later reactivated. But did he do enough for that? Well, it wasn’t his first time. He might have a lot of it in his body. I didn’t know. All my knowledge about the substance wouldn’t tell me what was going on here.

He started speaking slower and slower and by now got to the point where he explained to my mum in every detail how he sits at home on his toilet “taking a shit” (yes, that’s the exact sound of words he used) and smelling this shampoo she gave him, at the same time mimicking the movements that he would make, the sniffing sounds and the satisfied, “mmmmmmmmm” sound which would be supposed to tell my mum how much he really loves the smell of that shampoo. When my mum got up from the table and went into the cellar, I told B to be quiet from now on (I tried kicking him underneath the table before which he didn’t understand), just say nothing. We’d have to talk about the whole issue upstairs.

From now on things developed much too fast for me too realize what was really going on.

My mum came back upstairs, I had finished eating and tried to take B’s knife and plate and wanted to clean the mess up. While I was in the kitchen my mum told me it was rude to take his stuff before he had finished eating and asked him if he wanted another roll. I then said something like “No he does not, we just talked about it and he has no more appetite.”

B: “I’ll take another roll”. At this point I realized something must be seriously wrong, B behaved much stranger than he usually would. He took another croissant and started smearing the chocolate cream right on top of it. Both his hands and the area around his mouth was smeared with chocolate.

Fortunately my mum was by now going upstairs, downstairs, all through the house, seeming like she was getting ready to leave. At some point B turnt to my mum and asked her: “What am I eating here?”.

I laughed and covered the question with some counterquestions to B when my mum told us she was gonna go shopping now. He kept saying weird shit and I was glad she finally left the house. My dad and my younger brother of 20 were also long at work.

Now, I tried cleaning the mess up and told B to finish his croissant upstairs. Over and over again I asked him what was wrong and if he was allright. I didn’t get any answers anymore. He seemed like he was trying to say something to me. I sensed he might have a psychotic disorder which could have been triggered by the drug craze of last night. I tried calling his friends, but reached no one. I should add that I’ve only know B for a good three months now and we haven’t seen each other more than ten times since I’m very busy with school and work. He moved to Hamburg recently and all his friends are in another city and I know them a lot less than I know him.

Anyway, I reached no one. At some point I took the croissant from him and told him that I’m going to throw it into the trashcan. No reply. He started putting his chocolate smeared hands onto my bed, so I took his hands, pressed them together and walked him down the stairs to the bathroom. He washed his hands. All he said to me was my name every now and then and how he “really likes me, but this…” He didn’t finish a single sentence anymore. Something was wrong.

I had him lay down on the bed and pointed the computer camera to him, not sure yet how this will develop an whether I should call the medics and WHAT the fuck was going on. An episode of drug induced catatonic schizophrenia? A PCP flash back? Was he just tired?

I pointed my attention at the computer monitor when from the corner of my eye I could see a plastic baggy with white powder lying inside of the vitreous candle holder. Mmm, weird, I hadn’t put it there. And even weirder… The bag used to hold 3 grams, this looked more like 2 grams though. This striked me as odd and it took me no longer than the blink of an eye to realize that B must have used some of my PCP HCl, judging by the absence of a pipe, intranasally. This was bad, I asked him if this was it, but got no reply. I hesitated to call the ambulance, knowing PCP used to be utilized as an anaesthetic and B was still awake. He could therefore not have taken THAT much. But the fact of around one gram missing from the bag remained.

I waited, kept filming him, observed every now and then. At some point I heard a strong cough from behind me and upon turning around saw B laying there with his eyes shut, having difficulty breathing. I immediately realized the seriousness of the situation, massively slapped his face while talking to him in a very loud voice, slowly and clearly, asking him if he needs to go to the hospital. I of course got no clear reaction so I picked up the phone, telling the ambulance people my address and that my friend obviously had an overdose of phencyclidine and possibly had amohetamines on top of that the night before. I did not tell them about the 2C-I or the mushrooms since I considered it to be of no value to them. In retrospect, considering the vasoconstricting properties of these substances it was more than careless to suppress this evidence.

Anyway, I packed all my drugs together, got them out of the house in a total rush and when the doorbell rang I was just done doing that. I shut off the pc as well because I expected cops to come with the ambulance, as it is custom when overdoses happen here in Germany. By doing this I forgot to save the video that I had recorded over the course of the past hour.

To my surprise, there were no cops. The ambulance drivers were really cool. They laid B an infusion in my room, were very understanding and told me it was very very rare that they see something like this. It’s usually homeless junkies who overdose and not people in a neighbourhood like ours. They also told me about the whole cop and legal thing and that even if they would leave the pot for me to smoke it would be wise to give it to them which I did. They gave B five points on the Glasgow Coma Scale and considered all his vital functions to be perfectly normal, no elevated blood pressure etc.

I had a nice talk with the ambulance drivers and the doctors and they were all really cool seeing no reason to call the cops. Within a few hours we had found out B’s address, birth date, health insurance company etc.

Things got kinda hectic in the hospital since I had to leave for the surf cup and we forgot B’s shoes at my house which I had to go pick up and bring to the hospital etc. Had to pack my stuff and blah, very hectic. I was very lucky that my parents weren’t home and that the neighbours were so cool not to tell me parents that my friend od’d on pcp which I informed them about.

Also when looking for the amphetamine filled glass vial that I thought B must still have in his pockets (I wanted to use it to steal some liquid vasodilators from the ambulance room), I found out that he stole drugs from me. I gave him all my trust, all my pot and shrooms and whatnot. Told him he could use as much as he needs and what he does is he takes my other drugs and pockets them. He even pocketed some pot and some citric acid!! ROFL! That’s how far gone he was. He all rolled it into toilet paper in a very hectic fashion, so sad. I was severely disappointed. I took all the drugs and threw them away right there in the hospital. Most of it was pcp which explained the gram that was missing from my stash.

Before I left he was half way back to reality and I told him that if I catch him doing drugs again, I’m gonna kick his ass. I had him repeat that to me to make sure he got it right. He was still without orientation and didn’t even know he was in hospital…

Anyway, I did not tell him about the stealing thing until he called me the next day while I was on the beach having fun with the waves (which were fucking amazing and so was the whole weekend btw!). He at that point had no idea what he had done the day before. He did not even remember being in the hospital at all besides some blurred imagery of a white room he still had on his mind…

Some technical stuff: He ingested the Amphetamine over the course of thursday evening, the first gram of mushrooms at 10pm and the 2C-I at around 12:30am, the rest of the pot and shrooms was eaten over the course of the night until about 5am. I later realized that he must have also eaten the 20mg Valium that were contained in the mushroom baggy...

The PCP must have been snorted at around 8:30 which is solely an assumption! At around 10:00-10:30am must've been when he passed out, the peak so to speak. He was able to form words again at around 12am and could move and drink from a glass at around 1pm. I am quiet certain that over the course of the night he had around 3 liters of electrolyte rich liquids (judging by the empty bottles) which should be sufficient regarding the elimination of the dehydration risk.

Oh before I forget, the Valium thing has later cleared up. B did not eat them. Instead I forgot all about the fact that I had put the Diazepams in my emergency bag for the Surf Cup that lay ahead, along with some MDMA and Sildenafil capasules - It sure was a fun weekend to say the least.

Be careful peoples! Much <3

Exp Year: 2006	ExpID: 53674
Gender: Male
Age at time of experience: Not Given
Published: Oct 29, 2007	Views: 62,924
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PCP (113), Ketamine (31) : Train Wrecks & Trip Disasters (7), Second Hand Report (42), Small Group (2-9) (17)