The Final Showdown: A Personal Story about Good Drugs and Bad Drugs

I was lucky that I never got too deep into the "bad" drugs when I was going through my experimental phase. I tried some of those things but I found that I liked weed and psychedelics far better than anything else and those happen to be pretty harmless as far as mind altering substances go. However, there was a period where I would snort a line of cocaine without much thought if someone was offering it to me. I think that some of the negative image of that drug is overblown (as is the case with all drugs) but I certainly don't believe that using it for recreational purposes is the best idea that a person can have and I would refuse it if it was offered to me now. I didn't always feel that way, though. As I said, I was experimental. That is to say, I was experimental until a very specific night changed my feelings about cocaine and the other "party drugs." You see, there was a duel of sorts where "good" drugs and "bad" drugs went head to head in my mind. The experience was extremely difficult for me but, in the end, the results were largely positive.

A friend and I had called the mushroom man to buy an ounce of our favorite fungus. That was more than we had planned on consuming but we wanted to have a few trips on hand for later. The mushroom man told us that he would be there to do the deal at seven o'clock and we began to wait.

As was increasingly the case, the mushroom man did not appear at the designated time. We were used to that behavior so we weren't too upset. We smoked and watched T.V. for a while but time kept crawling ahead at an alarming pace. Eight came and went. Then nine and ten but, still, there was no sign of the mushroom man and we began to think that the trip was not going to happen.

The doorbell rang and we went to answer it. We knew that it was not the mushroom man but friends often stopped by and having a little company was a welcome distraction from our growing disappointment.

The individual who was outside (we will call him Cokey) was not the frequent visitor. While Cokey didn't come around very often, we were always happy to see him. He was a friend and someone we liked to spend time with but he had some serious addiction problems and he was what one might call a "fuck up." He was a nice guy though and he was always happy to help whenever it was asked of him so we all looked past his shortcomings.

When he came in, we began smoking and explaining our frustrations to him. The mushroom man was also Cokey's weed man and he knew how things can go when the mushroom/weed man says "I will be there in a little while." Cokey, being the sympathetic type, felt our pain and asked us if we wanted to do some lines with him. "Yeah," we said excitedly as we began readying a surface to cut them up on.

There is no need to describe using cocaine. It looks pretty much like it does in the movies. You divide it, suck it into your nose, and that is about the extent of it. Then, you feel really good and confident for about forty-five minutes and, after that, you start feeling terrible as your high crashes.

Maybe five minutes after we had shared some of his bitter but oddly pleasant tasting white powder, the mushroom man was at the door. To our surprise, the trip was on. Cokey offered him a line and we all snorted a little more while the mushroom man helped to make the mushroom tea.

We drank our tea and we gave some to Cokey, since he was nice enough to share his drug of choice with us while we were waiting for our drug of choice to arrive. The mushroom man went on his way while we waited for the trip to begin. Almost immediately, things started getting weird. There is usually a period of anxiety before psychedelics come on but, this time, the coke buzz was increasing that to levels that I would almost describe as a mild panic attack. I felt unusually hot too. Mushrooms can make you sweat but, as was the case with the anxiety, this was far worse than what is typical. I didn't know how the rest of the night was going to play out but it was clear that mushrooms and cocaine do not get along and that there was a "conflict" on the horizon.

The mushrooms had washed away the sense of euphoria that is one of the defining characteristics of coke and the cocaine was preventing me from submitting to the trip and letting it overcome my consciousness. One substance increases the ego, the other suppresses it and that did not make for a pleasant state of mind. I was tripping but everything felt wrong. The drugs were fighting it out and I was caught in the middle. I was acutely aware of myself and what I was feeling. Without the "high" of the cocaine, I was able to see all of its problematic qualities in myself and in my fellow psychonauts. I wondered what the point of such a drug is. It might serve some purpose (its numbing effect was useful in dentistry once and the stimulation could be helpful in certain situations) but I sensed that there is something wrong with it and the way it encourages people to behave. I don't mean that in the drug warrior sense. Cocaine feels good and it lets you trick yourself into thinking that you are acting normally. However, the clarity of the trip allowed me to see that we were not acting normally ( normally for people on mushrooms, anyway). We were jittery, gritting our teeth, and unable to relax. "This is not a good look," I thought to myself.

The trip was coming on strong and my first friend would not shut up. He kept talking and talking and that was driving me crazy. Normal trip conversations flow in a way that seems natural, if somewhat "rambly" but this was not that. It seemed as though he was compelled to talk and that this compulsion was the result of the same internal "fight" that was happening inside of myself. I finally handed him the bong in the hope that smoking would keep him quiet for a little while. I was wrong because he held it instead of hitting it and continued talking.

The coke crash was now upon us and we were all reacting differently. Cokey was talking about wanting more coke which sounded incredibly unpleasant to me and demonstrated the level of his addiction. He knew as well as I did that the terrible experience which we were all sharing was brought about by that drug but his drive to keep using it was stronger than his desire to have the experience to come to an end. My other friend was still vocalizing every thought that came across his mind. I had tuned him out for the most part but he was hard to look at. His body was scrunched and tense as he clutched the bong awkwardly in his hand and he was rapidly bouncing his heal in a way that made him seem to be vibrating with discomfort. I was caught in my head trip and contemplating the fundamental differences between the substances that we had mixed. It seemed to me that they cannot coexist and that this experience was the conflict that forcing them together had caused. I began to question my decisions. Why am I wasting time with these "party drugs" when we have weed and psychedelics and all of their benevolent benefits? What "path" am I on? Is Cokey's addiction the natural result of use or is he weak minded and allowing himself to be controlled by his habits or is there something else at play in his life? Those questions swirled around my mind and I felt a sense of dread and extreme sympathy for Cokey. That same series of thoughts and events became a loop that lasted for hours. Cokey kept wanting coke. Talky kept talking. I kept thinking.

Finally, something changed. The mushrooms had overcome the power of the stimulant (not surprisingly as psychedelics usually "win," in my experience), the trip began to feel more familiar, and I came to understand what was happening. Cokey decided to leave to, presumably, go find more coke and Talky's talking started to run out of steam and I began to realize that these drugs pull a user in different directions and that mixing them was asking for this sort of internal conflict. Talky (later confirmed my suspicions about his experience by telling me that he had tried to keep talking in order to avoid the same types of feelings that I was having) and I followed the mushrooms and their pull. Cokey went the other way.

That night changed the way I viewed the subject of "party drugs" and the value that they hold. I didn't begin to think about them in the way that the anti-drug propagandists would like but I saw that their potential recreation or self-exploration often isn't worth the price that they come along with. Coke makes a person feel very good but it can also make that person look like an ass while he or she is too busy being undeservedly confident to notice. To people like Cokey, its use can also be highly problematic and cause unnecessary hardship. I made the decision that morning (the sun was beginning to rise at this point) that coke specifically and the "party drugs" in general were not for me.

Talky went on to have a normal life though I have lost touch with him in the years since this incident. I don't know what happened to Cokey. I saw him a few times after that but his presence faded from the lives of everyone around me so his fate is a mystery to me. I stuck to my decision and I haven't touched any of the "party drugs" since then. I even (mostly) cut alcohol out of my life (not for "moral" or addiction reasons, it just always made me feel kind of crappy the next day and I don't attribute that to this trip). I don't know if my story had a point but I am reminded of a bit that was preformed by the comedian, Doug Stanhope. I am poorly paraphrasing him but he essentially said that one can tell the difference between a "good" drug and a "bad" drug because the things that one thinks on "good" drugs are still true the next day. From my perspective, I was given a little taste of that truth. In a night, I was forced to understand that my view of the world was flawed. I learned that a drug being fun and not as cartoonishly "bad" as the authorities say does not mean that it is necessarily positive. It took a psychedelic slap in the face but I was taught that lesson and I believe that it remains "true" even after all of the years that have passed.

Peace.

All the images in this post are sourced from the free image website, unsplash.com.