Shrooms

Don’t worry…we’ll have fun

I’ve been clean and sober for over 28 years. My main thing was alcohol because that was the thing I couldn’t live without. Drugs? I could take them or leave them. I never had a problem quitting drugs. That’s not to say I didn’t do way over my fair share of drugs. I don’t say that to brag…well…yes I do.

Many drugs I only did once. Believe it or not, I didn’t like drugs where I saw things that weren’t there. I only took LSD once (the famous Orange Sunshine)when I was 14. The advantage of being a Baby Boomer was doing drugs while you were still a baby.

Some drugs I didn’t do until I was older. I didn’t do Psilocybin mushrooms until I was 24.

I was living in New York, working at the commodities exchange, and I was close to being married (which, to make things clear, had nothing to do with the desire to do hallucinogens). It was close to quitting time, and my friend, Steve, asked me very ‘matter-of-factly’, “Wanna do some shrooms and go see a basketball game at the Garden?”

I don’t like mushrooms. I don’t like the kind of mushrooms people put on steak, or salads, or spaghetti. But for some reason, the tripping kind sounded interesting. I smiled and said, “Sure!”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a plastic bag with some ugly looking stringy mushy things inside. He reached in the bag, took some out and handed them to me. He warned me ahead of time that they taste like shit, and he wasn’t wrong.

I threw them into my mouth, chewed, grimaced, and swallowed. After about five minutes I looked at Steve, “I don’t think these things work. I don’t feel anything.”

He smiled. “You will. We better get going.”

I offered to drive to Madison Square Garden from the World Trade Center, but he suggested we take a cab. I still didn’t believe these things were going to work on me, but I took his word for it.

The Knicks weren’t very good that year so it wasn’t a problem getting seats. The game had already started, but they were still in the first quarter. If a gun was held up to my head, I couldn’t tell you the name of the team they were playing. The only reason why I knew it was the Knicks was because we were in New York at Madison Square Garden. We settled into our seats, and I was prepared to simply watch a live basketball game, which I enjoy, anyway.

Suddenly, I smiled. I don’t know why I smiled, but I was definitely smiling. I looked at Steve and he was smiling, too. He looked at me, nodded, and said, “Kickin’ in.”

Slowly, I remember there being a pleasant buzz playing in head. I had played the game of basketball for most of my life, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember a single rule of this game of basketball. I had no idea why those guys were doing what they were doing and it was funny!

The players weren’t blurred as much as they were following themselves. And the colors were amazing! But I still had no idea what they were doing. Why the hell was that guy in the striped shirt blowing that whistle? Didn’t he know there was something about that whistle that made everyone stop playing? Stop blowing that goddam whistle!

At one time during play, I stood up and pointed towards the court, “Look!” I screamed, “That team has the ball!” Then seconds later, still standing and pointing, I screamed, “And now the other team has the ball! Why do they keep doing that?”

Steve grabbed my arm and pulled me back in my seat. I watched in amazement. Not at the game, because I had no idea what they were doing; but at the colors. The colors were amazing. I couldn’t believe they made colors like that. My throat was dry because my mouth was wide open. And so the night went.

I awoke in my apartment, drowsy, and trying to recap what had happened the night before. What had happened was that I knew I was never going to do shrooms again. I loved basketball too much.

Worth reading?

Please press the💚 and share it with friends. It helps more people see it.