Citation: Psyrax. "The Big Rush: An Experience with Crack (exp92894)". Erowid.org. Apr 26, 2018. erowid.org/exp/92894
I tried crack for the first time a few months ago this summer. My Mexican friend (we'll call him Eric) was hanging around town on my way home and told me we could do some 'cocaina fuerte' if I let him have a few drinks at my house. I was bored and had few plans outside of a solitary evening of wine and sketches, so I agreed. Eric's usually a big mess to deal with when he drinks too much and refuses to leave. I decided to put up with at that night in exchange for an intimate experience (in my mind) with the ghetto's number one chemical debilitator: crack cocaine.
I'll preface this report by saying that I'm college educated, relatively healthy, and grew up in a white, middle-class family. I came into the experience hungry for something to write in my journal. I wasn't disappointed. I lead Eric upstairs; he kept the crack rock in his mouth, mumbling about the cops and the need to be quiet. I told him that my place was a crack den in a queer kind of irony. I made fun of all the tenants who smoked and shot up crack in the past..people like diaper man (a name given to him by his neighbors), for walking up and down the stairs for incessantly after doing crack cocaine. Made' fun of Dean for making erratic, spider like movements when he started to geek out. After a minutes of noting the absurdity, I waved it off and we lit up the crack in a broken radio antennae. He smoked first. The smell is difficult to describe. It's a chemical plume of salt and bitterness. Not too far off from smoking condiments, if that makes any sense to you. The crack took about half a minute to kick in, and when it did, it hit me like a train. I felt a rising energy in my guts, then my heart.
My eyes were focused and I was unusually aware of my music and my environment. I asked if it was O.K. to put on some music. Eric told me it was, so I blared some Tears and Fears and felt my skin sing. I felt invincible, double checking to see if my friend felt the same way I did. He didn't, and he talked about his children. I listened, but at the same time I was overwhelmed by the energy reeling through my body. This was completely different than I expected. I didn't feel violent or psychotic; only godly with a misplaced sense of importance.
I didn't feel violent or psychotic; only godly with a misplaced sense of importance.
I smoked most of the rest and maintained the feeling until it was gone, which was about thirty minutes.
The crash, sadly, was inevitable. I didn't get shakes or teeth clenching, but I did feel like garbage that night and the following morning. I wouldn't make this drug a habit. I felt like Super Man for ten minutes.
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