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&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width=&quot;15&quot;&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;!-- DoseChart --&gt;
	&lt;table border=&quot;2&quot; cellpadding=&quot;4&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; bordercolor=&quot;#224422&quot; class=&quot;dosechart&quot;&gt;
		&lt;tr&gt;
		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; align=&quot;right&quot;&gt;DOSE:&lt;br&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td width=&quot;90&quot; class=&quot;dosechart-amount&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;18 hits&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-method&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;oral&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-substance&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;/chemicals/lsd/&quot;&gt;LSD&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		 &lt;td class=&quot;dosechart-form&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;(liquid)&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/td&gt;
		&lt;/tr&gt;
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&lt;!-- End DoseChart  --&gt;
&lt;!-- Start Body --&gt;
I had just turned 17 and was at a jungle party. Time was not really something I kept track of that evening and you&#x27;ll probably understand why. I had dropped about 18 hits of liquid on my tongue around 10 pm. It was supposed to be just another routine acid trip where I&#x27;d dance around to some jungle music and possibly eat a grape fruit. I was happily dancing around until midnight and then I was summoned by my bf H. The 16 year old, G, who I&#x27;d recently met was in the handicap stall of the women’s bathroom. She most obviously drunk by the look of her. She normally looks like she&#x27;s been mistaken for a clapboard fence and been white washed. It all looked like a movie I&#x27;d seen on Lifetime, Television for Women with my mom when I was around 12. Her face was turning a little blue, but that might have been the LSD, I was seeing intense swirly bobs. Her body was shaking and she just looked confused. I couldn&#x27;t stand to look at her.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
Her boyfriend, J was laying near her and H was just standing there, knowing that all was lost. That was when it hit me or when I heard H tell me what had happened. It seems G was pregnant and she had just told J she&#x27;d had an abortion while I was jumping around like a giddy Homer Simpson. I looked back up at her and an incredible force to the back of my body and I was flying down some black hole where people played bongo drums and G&#x27;s little fetus was playing other fetus&#x27;s in a wading pool. They looked so happy. It is as though the little fetus was trying to tell me something. Or G was. I fell down into this little white room hearing everything G had ever said to me. It just echoed and echoed and then it fell away and I was floating in the atmosphere, and what felt like back down to my body.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
I got my sight back and looked at her again. My curiosity was moving at rapid speeds. I felt like a tour guide on a safari bus that was making its way through all of this. The room began to move like the gravitron ride at county fairs. I ran over to the trash can and threw up. H tried to comfort J or at least get him off of that disgusting ground, but he wasn&#x27;t having it. He wouldn&#x27;t cry either, he just laid there, he looked like a bitter old man. For some reason A, who I don&#x27;t think has ever smoked pot appears. He&#x27;s tall and quaky looking. He&#x27;s 6&#x27;4 and sort of big. H takes off his sweatshirt and pulls it over G&#x27;s head. A flips her over his shoulder and she looks like she&#x27;s very drunk. The hood is covering her face. We exit the party very quickly, and for every reason I&#x27;ve ever been called a madwoman I wanted to lift up G&#x27;s jeans and see if her legs are discolored for any some such reason. G doesn&#x27;t say anything. She&#x27;s silent, almost catatonic.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
As the situation wore on, I became almost accustomed to it, as though it wasn&#x27;t real. I was just tripping on acid and I had walked into a movie on Sundance or something. This was not happening to me. I most certainly did not know anyone who could ever get pregnant. God no. Children are delivered by storks. The world was looking bright and things were growing in size and I was taking little field trips in my mind to places like Alice and Wonderland and the Brady Bunch. Hell I was trying on Marcia&#x27;s clothes. And then I&#x27;d make my way back to the generic movie channel and I&#x27;d be there.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
H drives a 2-door sardine can and it is very funny to watch A inside of it because he has to stick his head out the window or put his head out the sunroof, but for some reason, I&#x27;m the one who&#x27;s driving. Because H almost ran down two pedestrians while driving on MDMA at 4 am. A is too preoccupied and I don&#x27;t think that J or G are in any condition to operate a vehicle. As H is getting into the back seat in a car that defines compact, I stop to watch the scene going on in the backseat. A silent girl who has just lost her fetus is sitting next to one very small window and in the middle is her bf who has finally given into crying and is clutching her like he is the oyster and she is the pearl. I imagine God to be a pearl hunter trying to take him away from her.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
I begin to drive and I feel like I&#x27;m some race car driver on TV and I start running through the channels again, which while operating an automobile is never a good idea. I get to Animal Planet and I&#x27;m running from a wolf into a Home Depot commercial. For some horrible reason and only a mechanic can tell me exactly why, but the car started smoking. H got out and tinkered around. A, G, and J didn&#x27;t even notice that the car had stopped. I began to drive again, but the car humped and jumped and A asked why. H responded that the power steering was gone. I turned around while still operating the vehicle to yell at him &#x27;You Drive!&#x27; He said let us live and watch the road. I could at that point only wonder what the hell sort of God creates situations such as these?
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
I continued to drive on, completing my task was imperative to the survival of my team members, or at least that was how I thought of it. I suddenly knew what it was like to be a soldier, a crusader for a cause. Don&#x27;t ask me why. I was cut off by some asshole in a silver Taurus and finally noticed that there were other cars on the road. I began frantically yelling out the window, &#x27;Go home! It&#x27;s not Tuesday!&#x27; In LA, the traffic is at its worst on Tuesdays and this was an early Saturday morning, these people had no right to be out of their homes. None whatsoever. H warned me that a militia from Montana was going to lynch my Jewish ass if I didn&#x27;t shut the hell up and at the time I believed him. I imagined angry rednecks coming at me with beer bottles, shot guns, pitch forks and I suddenly really wanted to know how Timothy McVeigh was doing.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
The next thing I knew H&#x27;s car was in my driveway and we were quietly walking up the path. I stood outside looking at my neighborhood, which at that time of year had trees blooming pink flowers everywhere. The trees were folding into each other and waving good night to us. I must have stood out there for a while because when I went into the house (H had my keys) A was in my room watching Bob Vila and someone had put out a blow up bed where J and G appeared to be sleeping. H was reading a Seventeen magazine left over from 1996. My visuals were dwindling at that point so I wandered down stairs to get myself some orange juice. Along the way were pictures of my family and I stopped to look them. That is when the evenings events truly hit me. I felt my own mortality. For a moment I had felt a being die inside of me. It was the acid, but still. As I looked at the pictures of my family I wondered what would have happened if I&#x27;d never been born.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
A very frightened me ran back up the stairs and started pounding on my parents door, seeing trails of everything I ran past. My dad groggily answered the door in his plaid PJ&#x27;s and asked what the fuck was I doing and was I on drugs? I very solemnly answered yes and told him I loved him. We went down stairs to talk. I informed him of the evenings events and being his usual self he laughed at me and told me stories about his own acid trips, including my favorite. A very funny one about a Japanese guy with an Oklahoman accent. He was a hitch hike to Woodstock kind of hippie.
&lt;br&gt;

&lt;br&gt;
Afterwards I went out and bought 10 boxes of condoms and wandered around distributing them. I&#x27;ll always wonder what the hell became of that little fetus that I never got to talk to and if I didn&#x27;t know it before, I do now, that everyone is mortal, there is no escaping that. Also if you enjoy the idiot box do not travel through it. It will never be the same again. Peter Jennings has my deepest sympathies for reasons that would make a grown man piss in his pants out of fear.&lt;!-- End Body --&gt;
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&lt;table border=&quot;0&quot; cellpadding=&quot;5&quot; cellspacing=&quot;0&quot; class=&quot;footdata&quot;&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td width=&quot;700&quot;&gt;Exp Year: 2001&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td width=&quot;90&quot;&gt;ExpID: 9634&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Gender: Female&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Age at time of experience: Not Given&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;Published: Jul 7, 2005&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td&gt;Views: 12,075&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=&quot;2&quot; align=&quot;center&quot;&gt;[ &lt;a href=&quot;exp.php?ID=9634&amp;amp;format=pdf&quot; type=&quot;text/pdf&quot;&gt;View as PDF (for printing)&lt;/a&gt; ] [ &lt;a href=&quot;exp_pdf.php?ID=9634&amp;amp;format=latex&quot;&gt;View as LaTeX (for geeks)&lt;/a&gt; ]
[ &lt;a href=&quot;#&quot; onclick=&quot;expChangeColors(); return false;&quot;&gt;Switch Colors&lt;/a&gt; ]
&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td colspan=&quot;2&quot;&gt;LSD (2) : Difficult Experiences (5), Families (41), General (1), Rave / Dance Event (18)&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;
&lt;!--  &lt;img src=&quot;/images/new.gif&quot; alt=&quot;May&quot;&gt; --&gt;
&lt;/table&gt;

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