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I'd never actually seen 'shrooms before a small baggie of them appeared on my desk. Everyone told me that they were "fun" but "tasted like ass." Around two o' clock on a Wednesday afternoon, Erica sliced several into a peanut-butter-and-pickle sandwich, which I tried to eat without chewing and almost choked to death. At her behest, we went outside to wait for things to kick in. I was told that's how 'shrooms are best enjoyed — other than at a Dave Matthews gig, of course.
Immediate physical reaction
We walked down Avenue A and looked in some stores. I began to feel queasy and in need of air, so we sat down on a bench in Tompkins Square Park. The nausea subsided, and I began to feel super-chilled-out. Whenever Erica said something, I thought about it hard, mulled my response carefully and delivered it several seconds afterward.
Aside from a couple of trees in the foreground, the park looked like a piece of stage scenery. People looked like moving Colorforms that had been stuck on. It was like somebody turned up the color-and-silly-grin dial on the TV set in my mind. I watched a bunch of kids run over to a big, jolly man with a shaved head and an entirely tattooed face. They tried to climb him as if he were a stout oak tree. His laughter and general charisma were Santa-esque. He sat down, and his magnetic effect seemed to work on squirrels and birds. Over his shoulder, a toothless old Latina woman let forth a bloodcurdling, wheezy laugh. She straddled a much younger man on a bench, and they started making out and dry humping. A slow-moving police car would idle past, and the woman would temper her movements accordingly. Shortly thereafter, a pigeon flew into my head and flapped its wings on the side of my face. I began to understand that weird shit happens in Tompkins Square Park on a Wednesday afternoon, whether you're on psychedelic drugs or not. Erica and I retrenched to my apartment.
We undressed and got into bed, and Erica invited me to watch the room breathe. I stared at the walls but couldn't see it, and wondered aloud why the fuck you would want to do that anyway. Erica and I began to kiss and writhe around, but strangely enough, sex was the furthest thing from my mind. The mushrooms I had taken were supposed to be magic, but my penis was looking decidedly shiitake-like.
Duration of sex
Erica and I kissed and held each other for fifteen minutes, but I simply had no hydraulic action. Bah! Spooning followed.
In a phrase: shock and awe. For the first time Erica, witnessed my completely disinterested member. It didn't bother her too much; she found it kind of novel to be spooned without getting the "hot dog in the bun."
Comparison to drug use without sex
Next: Will this experiment go up in smoke as our intrepid scientist tackles weed?