[My friend Jesse recounts here how he was unknowingly given a massive dose of Hallucigens last week and tripped for 10 straight days(!!!)]

I. Introduction
Something like Tuesday 8/15, I think -- I had to meet Fred in Dupont to give him a couple copies of a movie (Byromania). He must have noticed that I was behaving pretty strangely, but he didn't show it. We talked for a little while, and that was about it. Still feeling in a daze, I think it was later that day that I stopped in Xando to grab a tuna sandwich. It didn't taste right, so I tossed it in the trash. But the coffee didn't taste right either. That seemed like too much of a coincidence. Now I started thinking I might have a medical problem. I left Xando with a really terrible salty taste in my mouth. I probably should have gone to a hospital, but I didn't for some reason. I decided to take a walk, so I walked home, which was quite a long way. But it didn't help.

II. The Bad Trip
The next thing I remember is waking up (I thought it was just a dream) in the middle of the night (the next day, or maybe a couple days later?). I was in my apt., hearing sirens. Nothing too strange about that. I went to the window when it sounded like they were stopping in front of our building. I looked out the window and saw a couple police cars and a fire truck. A couple minutes later an ambulance stopped too. That's when I knew I had to see what was happening downstairs. The front desk attendant told me there wasn't anything happening, so I reluctantly went back upstairs. But then it got worse. More sirens, first off, and still a police car, an ambulance and a firetruck in front of the building. So why didn't I see any of that when I went downstairs? I was beginning to really not like this dream. But then it got a lot worse. Now I was smelling smoke. I couldn't stay in my apt. smelling smoke, so I went downstairs again. This time I told them I thought there might be a fire. But I was smelling smoke in the lobby, too. I went outside a couple more times, but there wasn't anything outside. Now I was beginning to doubt some of what I was seeing and hearing. But I couldn't just forget about the smoke, which was everywhere. After just lying in my bed for a little while longer, I decided I must be dreaming a lot of this. But I never smelled anything in a dream before. Finally I decided that there must really be a fire, but I wasn't waking up. I tried to listen for a fire alarm, but I couldn't hear anything. Then I started hearing knocking on my door. The knocking got louder and more frantic. Now I really didn't need any more convincing. The smell of smoke got worse, too. I started to panic. To hell with the dream, I needed to wake up and get out of my apartment. I started shouting "help" and the number of my apt., hoping somebody would come to get me out. I could feel myself burning now. I just hoped I was shouting for real so someone would hear me. The shouting went on for I don't know how long. I was getting tired of shouting (I imagine my neighbors weren't too crazy about it either). But it didn't seem to be doing any good, so I decided I'd better just get used to the idea that I was burning to death. The next thing I remember is standing outside my apt. with a couple of the maintenance staff. It was frustrating as hell. Even though I seemed to be outside my apt. now, I still had a feeling I might be dreaming, in which case none of this mattered. They were telling me to calm down because there wasn't any fire. By now I was convinced I was dreaming. I could feel myself burning. The fire must be in my apt by now, I figured. I told the maintenance people I was on fire, but they just kept telling me to calm down. I started jumping up and down in the hallway, still trying to wake up. I hit my head on the wall, and I could see they were really getting worried about me now. I said "OK, I'm calming down" and stopped jumping. As bad as it all was, it was better now with somebody else around, whether or not I was dreaming, so I did start to calm down a little. There was no way I was going back in my apt. though, so I went downstairs to the lobby to just hang out and chat with the front desk person. After a little while I was still hearing the knocking sound, but the smoke and the fire went away. Much better. At some point during the bad trip I know I called my Dad to tell him what was going on. Naturally he told me to get out of the building, and I did (maybe that was what got me downstairs the first time). I didn't talk with him for a few days after that, so he was naturally wondering what the hell was wrong (I think he figured it out at some point). That wasn't too nice, either.

III. The Good Trip
I started chatting with the Front Desk Attendent (I think he's the same one who listened to me tell him there was a fire). He's an Iranian guy who's amazingly laid back and calm about everything. It really didn't seem to bother him at all that I was obviously pretty out of sorts. He just kept chatting with me like he always does. As I remember, we had pretty sober, run-of-the-mill conversations. We chatted for I don't know how many hours -- how ever many hours his shift lasted, probably 6 hours anyway. I chatted with the next Front Desk person, and the next and the next. I remember talking with 3 or 4 I think. I did sit down in one of the chairs downstairs to rest from time to time, dozing off a little. Another front desk attendant, a young woman, was obviously pretty concerned as I told her about all my symptoms, but to her credit, she stayed calm. After chatting with all of these different people, who were all being nice (No one said "Get the hell outta here, you wack!" or anything), I quickly forgot about the fire. Like I said, the knocking sound lasted a bit longer, but as I ignored that, it went away too. At some point I called my Dad again (now he knew there was no fire and that it was just me). He told me I should get on a train and come back home for a while. I agreed, although it didn't really "set in" for a while. He tried calling me a couple more times while I wasn't here, but I finally called him back and he reminded me to get on a train (and to eat and drink something -- I'd told him that my mouth was awfully dry -- talking was just making it worse). He also reminded me that I had to meet a friend who came to DC. I actually remembered that, but had convinced myself that I'd just made it up in my head. "Naw, I don't have a friend coming to DC that I'm supposed to meet at National Airport. I'm sure I just made that up in my head," I thought to myself in what must have seemed to be one of clearer moments. But yes, I did forget to meet this friend at the airport. Nevertheless, I made my way to Union Station, presumably to buy a train ticket. I also remembered that I was supposed to eat and drink something, although I wasn't particularly hungry or thirsty (I hadn't eaten or drunk anything for three days, it turned out -- I lost about 10 pounds). Once I got to Union Station, I stopped in a bar to grab a sandwich and some water. I also made a point of complimenting the bartender/waitress on her good looks -- NOT typical behavior for me. She just thanked me for the compliment and continued about her work. I remember laughing to myself as soon as she responded, somehow realizing the absurdity of my comment, even in the state I was in. Having eaten, I did seem to feel a little better, and I was pretty eager for a couple more glasses of water, it turned out. I got chatting with a young Australian guy who was visiting DC. He must have noticed something amiss, too, but kept chatting, figuring I was probably harmless. Our discussion was also very run of the mill. He asked a bunch of predictable questions about DC, which I responded to with predictable answers. It was quite satisfying to realize that I could still hold a conversation -- passing for normal, essentially. Naturally we got onto the topic of the DC job market. I had to laugh when I thought about the absurdity of talking about the job market, tripping out of my mind. The Aussie gave me couple strange looks when he saw me laugh for no apparent reason, but he was ok once I started talking normally again. I don't remember too clearly what happened next. Either the Aussie or I decided to leave the bar, and then I met my friend from out of town. Somehow she tracked me down to (I think it was) Union Station. She reminded me that I was supposed to get a ticket, and helped me get it. Then (I think) we went back to my building, where I grabbed my backpack, along with 2 or 3 shirts and my toothbrush and toothpaste. And then we were off to her motel to wait for the train and get a little sleep.

OK, that's it for now. That's probably 50% or a little more of the story. I just don't have time to tell it all right now. Happy Honks.