I've never been one to push drugs on other people, but at one point I had acquired a copious amount of 2C-I. Through semi-regular use it was something I had grown accustomed to using. I knew the body load, the effects of the visuals, how well I could function, etc. Hell, I would take it and go to work. Unlike other psychedelics it gave me the focus of a high dose of amphetamines and as long as I ignored the geometric patterns overlapping the faces of my co-workers and superiors, my job performance was well above par. I remember one night while working on the second floor, the windows were really throwing me off. They were that tinted, tempered kind of mirror glass, but not only were they like that on the outside of the building, they were also like that on the interior. So here I was, performing my job, while being able to see images myself and my co-workers in every direction. It was like a bad scene from "Enter the Dragon". Needless to say I survived the night and was able to fly under the radar. I made it home safely on my motorcycle in the morning; always a joy to ride while on psychedelics.
After taking up to 90mg orally in a single day, 30mg doses repeated every 6 hours, I decided to take it to the next level. A few years prior Josh Robbins had overdosed on a similar compound 2C-T-7. He had insufflated a rather large dose. You see, unlike 2C-I, Josh snorted a drug which, in and of itself, has MAOI properties. Autopsy reports indicated levels of ephedrine and MDMA in combination with the 2C-T-7 as a result of his death. Well, after doing research and learning that 2C-I had no MAOI like properties, I decided I would insufflate my usual 30mg dose. For me this was not a problem. It burned. I have snorted methamphetamine, MDMA, MDA, and probably my own weight in cocaine, but nothing has ever burned like this. Instantly I wanted to vomit, but I fought the urge, drank some Tang (the best drink on the planet), and I felt much better. The onset was extremely sharp, and as with other phenethylamines, the dose response curve is much steeper when you insufflate the drug as opposed to ingesting it. The feeling was so unnerving that I wanted to peel out of my skin. This is a common occurrence for me when I take large doses of psychedelics and I usually have to shower to feel better. I took a long shower, pulled myself together, and felt like a new man. I enjoyed the rest of day laughing at various things, walking around midtown, and working on my motorcycle.
The next weekend I told a co-worker, Mario, of my experience with 2C-I and being quite the psychonaut himself, wanted to try it. He asked me how he should do it.
"J, you said 30mg is a heavy dose, should I snort it or just swallow it?"
I hadn't really thought out my response very well, and after having just snorted 30mg myself, I guess the sadistic part of my personality wanted to share with him the pain I felt coursing through my sinus cavities.
"No man, don't swallow it. The bio-availability is much higher if you snort it. It burns for a few minutes and tastes like cat piss smells, but that's the worst of it."
This was not the best advice I could have given him. This was probably the closest thing to bad advice. Looking back on it, I couldn't believe I told someone to insufflate 30mg of 2C-I for their first experience. My room mate, Floyd, didn't believe in putting anything up his nose; he swallowed his cap. We were enjoying some old Merry Melody cartoons when I noticed Mario was completely silent. He was glaring at me. I had never seen this look on his face before. He was sweating profusely, fidgeting, and obviously very agitated.
"I think I'm going to throw up now." That was all he said.
"Don't fight it man, you'll feel better after you purge. Think of it like mescaline. You can go outside or feel free to use the bathroom. Try throwing some cold water on your face. You're body temperature is probably just elevating rapidly from all the excess serotonin."
Throwing up is something that has never really bothered me. I go with what my body tells me. If I feel nauseated, I throw up, it's mildly unpleasant while it happens, and then I feel better. This is not the case for everyone. I'm not saying I enjoy vomiting. It certainly isn't one of my favorite pastimes, but I generally feel better after a good purge. Mario is one such person who certainly did not like to vomit. He went to the bathroom and my roomie and I forgot how long he had been in there. We could hear water running, the toilet flush a few times, and then nothing. Floyd says, "Maybe you should check on Mario, he's been in there forever."
I went and knocked on the bathroom door. "Yo, Mario, you okay man?"
"FUCK YOU! Why did you tell me to do that? Why did you tell me to snort it? God damn you!"
I felt a little bad, but I couldn't help but giggle. I was tripping balls. You'd giggle too...
"Yea man, but I mean, are you okay? Can I get you something? A cold towel? Maybe you should take a shower, it usually helps me feel better when I trip really hard."
I was trying my best to be there for my friend. Mario was one of my favorite co-workers and to this day one of the most intelligent and kind people I know.
"Dude, I'm really embarrassed. I shit myself. I was throwing up into the toilet and then at the same time, I shit myself."
Okay, I'll be honest. I'm a good friend, but I giggled again. I made sure he couldn't hear me this time. I had to ask.
"Seriously man? Like, you shit yourself? How bad is it?"
"It's bad," he replied. "Real bad."
Mario just kept repeating himself, "Why did you tell me it was okay to snort that much? God, why did I listen to you? I've never felt so bad in my life. I can't get that taste out of my nose and now I'm covered in shit! Why did you tell me to do that? WHY DID YOU TELL ME TO DO THAT?"
"It's okay man, I'll go get you a change of clothes. I've got some clean boxers, shorts, and a t-shirt you can wear. They'll be a little big on you, but they should be really comfortable clothes for tripping."
I was doing my best here to make him feel more at ease and make myself feel less guilty. Just to put things into perspective, I'm 6'4", weigh 240lb, and at this time had a 38" waist. Mario is about 6', weighs all of 160lb dripping wet, and probably has a 32" waist. There is no way my clothes would fit, but I knew between the three of us, we could safety pin him or something. I gathered up a pair of shorts with an elastic waist, an anti-Bush T-shirt, I figured he needed something positive, and a pair of boxers and passed them through the door to him. He suggested I get some plastic grocery sacks and I took his advice. He passed me back the bath mat and his excrement covered clothing inside the Kroger bags.
There's nothing quite like having to help your friend change out of his clothes, do a load of laundry, and clean a bath mat covered in shit and vomit while on a head full of hallucinogens. It was a very humbling experience and not an easy one to explain to the neighbors. At this point however, they had learned to stop questioning my odd behavior and the sounds that came from my apartment. They probably thought there was some kind of S&M scat play that had gotten out of control and I was washing off the evidence with the hose outside.
Mario got out of the shower, into clean clothes, and enjoyed the rest of the evening. I don't think he'll ever trust my dose suggestions concerning any drug ever again. We are friends to this day.