Smart shop

Location: Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Being tourists, we leaned into the idea of doing mushrooms in Amsterdam.

We picked a "smart shop" at random and walked in. The attendant sold us three clear plastic boxes of mushrooms—one for each of us. He told us three things:

1) The variety of mushroom he was selling us was good for first-timers. We would have a "happy trip" and we would want to "run and jump and do somersaults in a field."

2) We had to eat an entire box. Any less, and we would risk not tripping at all, and that would be a waste of time and mushrooms.

3) If, at any time, we wanted the trip to end, all we had to do was eat something. For best results, something with sugar, like a cookie.

We felt well-informed. We went back to our apartment and chowed down.

Well, two of us chowed down. Mike hates mushrooms. But he said he would be able to choke them down because they were drugs, not food. He lifted a mushroom to his mouth and, at the last second, declared that he just couldn't do it.

The shop attendant had made us paranoid about eating too few mushrooms, so Jacob and I decided to err on the side of caution and split Mike's mushrooms between us.

Not sure what to do afterwards, we went for a walk. Maybe we would find a field to do somersaults in.

About half an hour into our walk, I had to pee. I ducked into a restaurant that had a very small, dark bathroom. I zoned out while peeing and jolted back to consciousness with the feeling that I had been in the bathroom for hours. I was worried that Mike and Jacob had left me there. I pulled up my underwear, but I was still peeing a little. Whoops. I dried myself off as best I could with some paper towels and rushed out of the bathroom. Happily, Mike and Jacob were still waiting for me outside.

I was feeling weird and told them I wanted to go back to the apartment. It became difficult to follow them as they walked. Each step required a lot of concentration.

We got back to the apartment. Making sense of reality was requiring more and more effort, and becoming more and more unpleasant. My vision had taken on a funhouse-mirror effect, and every time Mike or Jacob said anything to me, it felt like all the words arrived at my ears simultaneously.

We had some snacks in the apartment and I ate them. They had no effect. I've done some research since then, and the idea that eating food might sober you up is nonsense.

I went to my bedroom, laid down, and closed my eyes. Mike and Jacob were worried about me and followed me into the bedroom. They kept asking me how I was doing. The act of trying to understand them was making me nauseous. With a lot of effort, I was able to tell them that I didn't feel well, but it was because they kept talking to me, and I needed them to go away.

With my eyes closed, I felt like I was flying through a tie-dye universe. I realized two things that I really should have known already:

1) All the psychedelic art you see isn't just arbitrary weirdness. You actually see that sort of stuff when you're tripping.

2) It's called "tripping" because you feel like you're on a trip. Intellectually, you understand that you haven't gone anywhere, but you feel like you're traveling far, far away.

My tie-dye universe would sometimes have darker colors. If I flew towards them, I started to feel scared. I suspect that's what a bad trip feels like. I avoided the darker colors.

After a while, the tie-dye experience was replaced by an out-of-body experience. I felt like I was floating against the ceiling, like a balloon. I was thankful to be indoors. The idea of being outdoors and possibly floating away was scary.

I tried to float out into the living room to see what Mike and Jacob were doing, but I kept getting caught on the bit of wall above the bedroom door.

I eventually returned to my body and could open my eyes without feeling sick. There was a bird outside, and every time it chirped, I would see the sound as a wave across the bedroom ceiling. Like dropping a pebble in a pond.

I had to pee a few times during the trip. The apartment's bathroom was done in tile: a black-and-white checkerboard pattern. This is the absolute worst thing you can look at when you're tripping. All the lines that are supposed to be parallel and stationary are constantly moving and bending. I kept my eyes closed in the bathroom as much as possible.

Later in the evening, about eight hours after we had eaten the mushrooms, I felt like I was on my way back. I walked out into the living room. Jacob was talking with Mike. It sounded like he was having epiphanies about the relationships he had with his parents and his sister. I was impressed that he could talk.

The living room ceiling was made up of giant wooden beams. It was fascinating to stare at the wood and watch the burl do psychedelic contortions. I did this for about two hours, until I felt like I was back in reality.

I felt cooped up in the apartment and wanted to go somewhere else. Mike walked with me to a nearby bar. I explained my mushroom experience to him as best I could. I noticed that the bar was serving wine with coca leaves. (The leaves that are used to make cocaine.) That was interesting, but I decided that I had done enough drugs for one day.