It was the 1970s, and dressing like a hippie was the “in” thing. That often meant experimenting with drugs. I left my hometown to live with my best friend. I was the epitome of the country bumpkin, looking to give up my monotonous life for one with more fun.
My friend decided that I needed to learn how to “get wild.” I wasn’t so sure, but I did want to fit in with her new friends. So, one afternoon, I went apartment hunting with her and her boyfriend.
As her boyfriend drove along, she passed me half of a pill. I did not ask what it was, just popped it in my mouth and tried to get comfortable in the back of a Volkswagen Beetle. After about thirty minutes, I foolishly asked for the other half of the pill, proclaiming that the original dose was not doing anything.
I don’t know when the change started, but all of a sudden, I felt different, and not in a good way. It seemed as if I had entered a cloud and was operating above the earth. Then, just as quickly, I started to panic, because when I looked down at my legs and feet, they were encased in cement.
I immediately relayed to my friend that something was very wrong. They drove to her boyfriend’s apartment, but I could not get out of the car, convinced that I had on cement shoes. Eventually, stepping wide and with long strides, I managed to get out of the car. Her boyfriend was not chivalrous enough to help me.
As we entered the apartment, one of the first things I saw was a velvet picture of Elvis Presley. Music was playing loud, and it seemed as though Elvis had joined the Funkadelics, which was so disconcerting for me. I started crying because I could not sit down or lay down with the cement blocks on my feet, and the music was giving me a huge headache.
The others laughed at me, and I remember hearing my friend saying to me that I was having a “bad trip,” and the effects would wear off soon. I started praying to God and asking Him to get me back to feeling normal.
I promised Him that I would not take any more pills or smoke any marijuana, if he would just help me. I apologized for being stupid, and then waited for the effects to wear off. They joked at my praying and calling on God, but I knew I needed spiritual help to survive the incident.
It took the better part of a whole day to feel right again. Then, two events occurred. First, I decided that I needed to find another place to stay, because my friend and her boyfriend used a lot of drugs, and I knew that I would get caught up again.
The second was deciding never to use social drugs again, for that incident taught me how powerfully drugs can influence the mind in negative ways. What if I had thought I had wings and could fly? I could have died from the one pill, and there might not have been time for repentance. Today I am very reticent to even take prescribed pain-killers, preferring the pain sometimes.
The 1960s and 1970s were times of great experimentation in drugs. We could only speculate on the hazards of many of the drugs, not really knowing just how dangerous they could be. I learned the hard way that not every “scene” that other people participated in was good for my physical or mental health. I think some people today need to learn the same things.
Written for the Three Things Challenge #18 from Light Motifs II: cloud, hippie, and velvet. Fandango prompt is Health. Ragtag prompt is Speculate. Word of the Day is Monotonous. Your Daily Prompt was Chivalry.