CHAPTER 1
To The Other Side
If you have never taken LSD before, it is a difficult experience to describe. Even if you have tried acid, if you've never had a shitload of it at once, you may have only scratched the surface.
Jake had just taken a shitload of acid.
He was at his friend's house, getting a little high and hanging out. Jake had just dropped out of college, for all the classic reasons, and was directionless, to say the least.
His friend Chad was also his drug dealer, and, despite recently moving back in with his parents, Chad's house was where Jake spent most of his time. He just felt a bit too judged seeing his family all the time. Plus, Chad's house had better snacks... and drugs.
After a particularly monster rip from an almost sarcastically large bong, Jake had found himself in a bit of a coughing fit. In the grip of this fit, he ran downstairs to the kitchen for a glass of water.
After a few gulps and a few moments of collecting himself, Jake and his glass of water made their way back through the house. As he approached the stairs, on the living room coffee table he noticed a little flavor dropper thing that makes water red and sugary.
This was not the type of thing the (now very high) young man could turn down. He gave his drink a big ol squirt, just before his cough came back with a vengeance. However, this time he was ready for it, and immediately chugged his water. It was neither red, nor sugary, but it did the trick. He shrugged and headed upstairs.
"He is alive," Chad greeted him with a smile, and a freshly loaded bong. He was the type of person who was far more likely to be smoking weed at any given moment than most people are found eating or sleeping.
Still recovering, Jake waved him off. After a mild attempt at peer pressure, Chad took the hit for himself.
"You're a machine, dude," Jake said, with a 70/30 blend of admiration and worry.
"It's just weed, bro," Chad replied as smoke drifted out of his mouth. "Which reminds me, I just got some fire LSD in, you gotta try it. Straight liquid, not even tabs. Shit is POWERFUL."
Jake wasn't quite high enough to miss connecting those dots. He asked his friend if that was what was in the flavor dropper thing downstairs.
It was.
He was getting nervous as he told Chad what he had just done, and asked if this was gonna fuck up his day. Chad replied with a 70/30 blend of admiration and worry.
It was.
Jake had done acid before, and though he wasn't planing on tripping for 12 hours that day, he wasn't really planning for anything else either. So he had no trouble switching to excitement about having a nice trip.
"I don't know, man," Chad was clearly nervous, but also trying to not freak out his friend before the drugs kicked in. " I don't want you to freak, but, like, what's the biggest hit of acid you've ever done?"
"Uh... last year I took like a whole strip, was fucking catatonic man. Was awesome and mind-blowing, but a lil rough if I'm being honest."
Chad proceeded to give a lesson about LSD. He explained that to make strips, a dealer puts a few drops of liquid on a sheet of paper. Those drops spread out to cover the whole sheet, or about ten hits, which is most definitely a lot of acid. But by that math, that's only a few drops for a whole sheet, and Jake had just taken a flavor-blast size squirt. So, chances were that he had just taken over 100 hits, minimum.
Like I said. Jake had just taken a shitload of acid.
Chad had to leave and serve some people, but told Jake he was welcome to stay and hang at his place. He told him to put some music on and get as comfortable as possible, cause shit was about to get real.
Jake was setting up his little safe place on the living room couch as Chad was heading out the door.
Seconds later, Chad came back inside and peeked around the corner at his friend whose mind was about to melt.
"Hey man," Chad called to his friend, unable to hide his concern. "Everything's gonna be cool, don't even sweat it. You are in for a wild ride."
"Thanks man, and thanks for letting me stay here for this."
"Of course, anytime. Also, not to add insult to injury but..."
Chad seemed to be having a hard time finishing the sentence.
"What is it?!" Jake asked after the pause went on too long.
"Well... you owe me prolly like a hundred bucks for all that acid." And he was gone.
Fuckin' Chad.
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37 minutes later...
As he began to feel the first stirring in his stomach and the back of his head, Jake was feeling zen.
He had the music going, he had a nice fuzzy blanket, had the visualizer playing trippy shit on the TV, and was feeling pretty prepared.
Thinking back, even when he took the ten hits that one time, tripping really wasn't as crazy as people think. Your vision gets wavy, your thoughts are all over the place, and you feel a bit thrown about. It's like the feeling of being in the ocean for a while. After letting a few waves crash over you, when you get out of the water, and you still feel like you are getting tossed around. It's like that, but also being wasted. And also being exhaustingly philosophical.
As Jake felt waves beginning to crash over him, he comforted himself with the thought of being drunk and pondering life at the beach.
"That's all this is going to be," he said to himself. "Drunk, philosophical, beach-chilling."
While he had heard tales of people having crazy visuals and hallucinations, there seemed to be a consensus in the druggy community that those people were full of shit.
"Just drunk, philosophical, beach-chilling."
The waves he felt crashing over him and flowing through him seemingly supporting his conclusion, he started to allow himself to be excited.
"This is gonna be fun," he thought.
He wasn't going to appear in a magical forest or wake up at the grocery store. He was comfortable and safe.