Citation: Murdoc. "It's Trippy To Me: An Experience with Cocaine (exp47016)". Erowid.org. Jan 1, 2008. erowid.org/exp/47016
||(powder / crystals)
I have been reading the experiences on this substance, and none seem to even mirror mine. So, I decided to post my relationship to the drug to show a different point of view.
This requires a little set-up. When I was fifteen I had tried pot a couple of times before, but finally got around to buying some myself. One of my best friends (oddly because he's five years older) since I had moved dealt it, among other things, we'll just call him Matt. Me buying it further cemented our relationship, because he finally had some respect for me. Within two months, I went from buying a quarter of regs every three to four days for fifty dollars to buying a quarter-pound of chronic every week for nine-hundred (the best price for the quality around where I live). I was rolling in money and smoking about five times a day, double that on weekends. I needed more than that qp a week even, but I decided to limit myself, I considered my job a bagboy at a grocery store, not a drug dealer. Every time I went to his apartment to pick up, he would try to convince me to buy coke, to which I always replied 'If you want to give me some, that's fine, but I'm not wasting any money on that shit.' Okay, enough preamble, I could go on for hours about that time in my life.
One week, about six months after I started the weekly qp pick-up, he told me that if I knew what was good for me, I would come to his house at seven PM two days from then. Having nothing better to do (it was a Thursday), I showed up at his house. He and two other people whom I had never seen before sat around his kitchen table with giddy expressions on their face. I sat down among them at the table, and he plopped down a heavy bag of coke. It wasn't powder, like I thought it would be, it was almost like a brick. I'll switch into a narrative dialogue, because it's the best representation of the situation.
'Do you know what this is?' Matt asked me.
'I told you I don't want to buy any of this shit,' the other people at the table giggled.
'This is not shit, this is pure, it came in this morning, and it's already gone. You've never done it before have you?'
'No,' I replied, 'but how would you know this is pure?'
'Because Bill right here,' he pointed to the guy next to me, 'loaded it on the plane yesterday in Peru.' He cut open the bag and scooped out probably a quarter-ounce, but I had no idea at the time. 'Now, just touch your finger to this, don't press, just touch, like this.' I did it as he had and then rubbed it on my gums as I saw him do. My gums felt freezing cold and my teeth felt hollow. 'That's what pure feels like, now sit back and smoke this for awhile,' he threw an eighth at me and a bowl. I smoked as they took turns blowing rails and almost screaming about the experience, asking for the bowl every once in awhile. About half an hour later he ripped open a gram bag of coke and poured it in front of me.
'Now take a nummie of that. That's the best shit I found around here.' I did it and my gums got numb, but they didn't feel cold as they had, and my teeth felt the same.
'Remember that difference, memorize it. That's how you test coke. You are one lucky kid, because your first time, you're going to be blowing pure.'
'How much should I do, I don't want to OD.'
'Don't worry about it,' he said as he cut me up a fat line. 'Now just try to get this all in your nose as fast as you can.'
They all giggled and called me a vaccuum cleaner because I slammed through that line. Immediately, my entire body floated off the chair. I saw geometric shapes exploding out of the powder on the table and the entire room got orange. Their giggles at the extreme expression on my face sounded tinny and removed. I felt as if I had seven orgasms at the same time. About twenty seconds later, I slammed back into the chair. 'Fucking goddamn,' I smiled and sunk into the chair. They all laughed and we conversed as they continued to do lines. We talked as if we had all known each other our entire lives. I honestly felt the best I have ever felt in my whole life.
An hour later he asked if I wanted another line, and began cutting me out one twice as big as the one before, which I now know was probably a half gram. I began to protest, but it was weak and I began to roll the hundred in my pocket before he even started convincing me. The same things happened, this time geometric patterns came from every direction and lasted a good two minutes or so. I loved it. I had to be home by midnight, and by that time I had done eight lines, probably about two and a half grams in all. I then gave him all the money I had, about four-hundred dollars and he gave me a full ounce. The others protested at how much he was giving me, and he said that I was his boy, and I deserved ground level. I still have no idea how he was only paying about $14,000 for a key of that, but I have no complaints. He then told me I should cut up a good amount of that, told me what pills to use and in what proportions.
I made much more than that four hundred dollars, and still had ten grams of pure to myself. There's two grams of that left, in my safety deposit box. Since then I have done coke about once or twice a week, but sell it everyday. If I don't trip out on that first line, I stop with that. Binging on coke for me is doing a full gram in a night. I know that the first time I did it, was the most I would ever be messed up on coke, the highest I could dream to be on that drug. To this day, I always test coke with the nummies, something not many people do. I even got free eight-ball from a dealer because I guessed the percentage it was dead on.
I think of coke as a psychadelic more than a stimulant. I feel that the people who disagree with me just have never really experienced it. I quit dealing it when Matt went to jail-for a very long time-but I don't regret it. It has financed my college education and I am nowhere near addicted. I don't think an addict could sit here typing this without having done it in a good two months with two grams of pure fifteen feet away.
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