Shroom Advice
When I was young and dumb and sound judgement was elusive at best, I did magic mushrooms… a few times. Let me first give a disclaimer. I am not suggesting or recommending or even hinting that anyone should run out and do shrooms just because I did them back in the day. To be honest, I did a lot of stupid things and I’m not even vaguely sure how I survived. I was impulsive, and pondering the results of my actions was not my strong suit. My father used to yell at me and say shit like, “If your friends jumped off a bridge, would you jump off too?”
“Come on Dad. You know they’d be following me over the side of the bridge. I wouldn’t be following them.” For the record, I’ve always figured it was sort of his fault because another thing he used to say was, “Be a leader, not a follower.” So, follow me boys. Over the bridge we go.
Anyway, back to the mushroom thing. If by chance you ever have a lapse in judgment and think, “Hey! Doing shrooms is a good idea,” let me give you a couple of pointers. First, reconsider your decision to do them in the first place. It’s not a good idea. It’s a bad idea. But, if you do not heed my warning and still decide to go ahead and shroom it up, I’ve got a couple more pointers.
Do not get in a car with an absolute bitch when you’re tripping on shrooms. Sitting in the back seat while the entire world is fluttering in ultra slow motion like a scene from The Matrix, while the ugly troll in the front passenger seat emotionally castrates her husband for how he combed his hair and the way he was driving, or for bringing along a guy in the back seat who is tripping on shrooms was not a pleasant experience. I kept waiting for her to turn into some sort of comic book monster and do god only knows what to us.
Also, sitting next to some guy with a weirdly large head, and a mouth that made him look like a cow who was asking me an endless stream of questions while chewing on a Big Mac with his mouth wide open is not something I’d recommend either.
“Hey, you want some fries?” he asked while sticking seventy-five fries in his mouth all at once.
“Naw,” I managed to mumble. And then I lost focus on what the question or answer was. I put my hand on the window and was blown away on how smooth and cool the glass felt. “Man, that’s some smooth glass,” I said to the window.
“Have you seen the trailer for this movie?” the chewing cow asked and put half a burger in his mouth and chomped away as happy as a pig in shit. A cow devouring a burger. Wow. We were on our way to see the first Star Wars movie. That was probably a brilliant or horrible thing to do when on shrooms, depending which way my shroom experience went. It turned out that I didn’t find out which one it was because I never made it to the theatre. I looked at the inquisitive cow with my head tilted but gave no response to his question and watched in horror while his jaw slammed up and down like some sort of living, breathing garbage disposal.
“Sure you don’t want some fries?” he asked again and slurped his Coke.
I stared up at the at the sunroof and thought, “Huh. Another window. What a strange place for a window. I wonder how it….” Then I lost my train of thought.
“Hey, man. Are you listening to me?” for the third time, asked the huge mouth full of mashed up two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions, on a sesame seed bun. It was all being ground up and mutilated too close for comfort and with such clarity that it was overwhelming. The chomping and chewing and slurping and stuffing food into his huge head was freaking me out. His head slowly morphed into nothing more than a giant chomping mouth sitting on top of his stubby neck.
“Naw,” I mumbled again. “Shit,” I whispered. “I don’t think I can go to the movies.” The no testicle guy driving shrugged and turned the car around. The bitch beside him looked relieved, or maybe even victorious, but she still managed to be a haunting all the way back to my place. I had to admire her stamina, but I wondered what I’d do if she turned her attention from him to me. Freaky. And the guy beside me? I was just hoping he wouldn’t eat me before we got there.
I walked into my apartment and turned the radio on and slouched down on the couch and gazed around the room. Here’s another critical pointer that you might want to keep in mind. Do not listen to sappy love songs while tripping on shrooms. I just sat there, minding my own business, and looked at a picture of Hemingway hanging on the wall. When he turned his head and looked at me, the first thing to come to mind was, “Whoa. Hemingway just turned and looked at me.” But when he smiled and began swaying to a Lost In Love, by Air Supply, I’m pretty sure my forehead must have wrinkled, and my face contorted into a look of confusion. It wasn’t the way I’d ever imagined the old man from the sea. And when he sang along with the radio and said, “You know you can’t fool me, I’ve been loving you too long,” while looking at me with big brown puppy dog eyes, well, what can I say. Blown away. Completely, freaking blown away.
So, just to bring the list up to date.
Don’t do shrooms.
If you do, don’t get in a car with a woman who wears her bitchiness like a badge of honor.
And then don’t sit beside someone who might eat you. Visions of him devouring food like a wild hyena eating a helpless lamb will haunt me forever.
And be careful about your music selection. Probably ought to give that some thought prior to the actual shrooming.
In reference to going to the movies, I have no advice because I didn’t make it to the theatre.
Perhaps somewhere down the road I’ll create another more comprehensive list of things to not do, but that’s a list for another time. Some folks might say, “Don’t write stuff like this for the general public to read.” What can I say. If sharing my mistakes helps someone down the road, I’ll consider it a public service and call it a day. Meanwhile, I guess I’ll just sit here at the bar and look at the Caribbean Sea. One more beer couldn’t really hurt all that much. Right?
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