The first night of Burning Man, I thought I was going to die.
There are a lot of people who smoke pot recreationally, regularly, do it for medical reasons, whatever floats your boat. I can’t stand it. It makes me sleepy and ravenous. Why would anyone in the middle of a raging party want to fall asleep or raid the refrigerator? Beats me. Anyhow, I can’t stand the shit. I’m also really sensitive to it.
Cruising around the playa, my friend Jud pulls out a pot brownie. Now, I may not like marijuana, but I sure do love chocolate! I took a smidget (literally a crumb) of the brownie. Jud scoffs, “That’s not enough!” He breaks the brownie in half, thinking I’ll put it in my pocket so I can snack on it throughout the duration of the night. Me being the stupid, ditzy imbecile that I am…I put the whole damn thing in my mouth and swallow.
About fifteen minutes later, Jud (who had only eaten a couple small bites of the brownie) starts talking about how the stuff is really affecting him. Well, that didn’t help me one bit. I start freaking out thinking about the dense mass of brownie I just scarfed down. Then the paranoia starts. Small tasks like getting on my bike and pedaling are a hardship. I refuse to look at people because I don’t want them to talk to me. I can barely put two words together. The only thing I want to do is head back to camp and crawl in my tent.
The paranoia kicks into overdrive back at camp and in my tent. I have visions of newspaper headlines: First Person Ever to Overdose on Marijuana, Death at Burning Man… I’m crying, sobbing uncontrollably in my tent. Nervous, anxious, scared. I’m hyper-sensitive to everything. My nose is a little stuffed up. I’m whimpering, “I CAN’T BREATHE!” A strand of hair falls on my face, I scream, “OWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!”
In the morning, I’m fine. I didn’t die.
Learn from my mistakes. Say no to drugs. Or at least don’t do a lot at one time.