Citation: Indelibleface. "Falling In Love With Life Again: An Experience with MDMA (Ecstasy) (exp66864)". Erowid.org. Dec 12, 2007. erowid.org/exp/66864
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In the middle of December of '05, my mother invited me to a vacation on a cruise ship to Mexico. At the time, I was living on my own with my girlfriend, not going to school, (which was my original goal in moving out -- that just never truly panned out at the time. I mean, living on your own in Los Angeles with your girlfriend -- god, we were dead broke half the time, I couldn't begin to think about school), and more or less estranged from my family. My father had the typical 'Well, you're not going to school, that's disappointing, but on the other hand, you're working full time, that's commendable' attitude towards my situation, but wholly disapproved of me living with my girlfriend. My mother felt the same way, but definitely did not enjoy the idea that I was working full time at a less-than-adequate retail job and not pursuing my education. She felt like we had lost touch, and that perhaps that was the reason for my inactivity towards my life goals. She felt that a family vacation would be just the thing to begin the process of reconnecting.
I was not in a happy situation, personally. I wasn't happy with my girlfriend, who had already decided that we were going to be married. At the age of twenty, I definitely was not ready to settle down. We had gotten together the year before, and I was having second thoughts about everything. And yet, I couldn't break free from her. I loved her. I knew that I needed to explore the world around me without someone attached to my back, pulling me down, but on some level I enjoyed that feeling immensely. I felt like I wanted to go back to school, but I couldn't achieve that considering where I was in life. I thought I had obligations to her that I couldn't drop.
I really looked forward to the vacation. I could tell my mother wanted to bond closer to me and have the sort of friends-for-life relationship that most parents achieve with their kids later on once they come of age. I awaited the chance to have a nice, long talk with her. And honestly, I also looked forward to having a break from my girlfriend -- a chance to really go over things in my head without her being such a constant presence around me all the time. When she was around, my brain tended to cloud my decision-making process with a sort of autonomic love -- I couldn't think clearly about the greater picture with her nearby.
Considering that this would be a therapeutic trip for me, I decided to bring something along to catalyze my introspection a little. I acquired two pills from a friend of mine. Two little, badly-pressed orange pills with the McDonald's logo etched into them (he called them 'happy meals' -- gotta love e-humor). They were tested as having a relatively high dose of MDMA with a very small amount of methamphetamine, if I remember correctly.
The day I was to leave on the cruise ship, I considered the situation intently. I had never brought pills (or anything of that nature) before onto [essentially] a mode of public transportation. I had figured it'd be easier than, say, transporting them onto an airplane, but I had no idea whether there would be dogs, or how we would be searched (if at all). I decided to be as precautious as possible. My friend suggested I tape them to the inside of my leg near my testicles. I did this, and (considering I have a wealth of hair down there, sorry, you probably didn't need to know that) I brought with me a small pair of scissors to cut the tape later once I had gotten on board successfully. This turned out to be a stupid idea, but luckily in the end, not that big of a deal.
When we finally got to the x-ray machines just before boarding, I bellowed a huge sigh of relief that there weren't any drug dogs. I realized that I probably could have easily left the pills in my pocket and I would have been fine, but when dealing with an issue that could potentially have been very serious in nature, I was glad to feel a little more safe. I walked through the x-ray with no difficulties (obviously), and went to go pick up my luggage that was on the conveyor belt. I was then suddenly asked to walk over to the side of the room by one of the officials. I think I came close to soiling my pants at that point. How could they have known? Was I completely fucked?
It turns out that they saw the scissors in my luggage, and I couldn't bring them on board. I didn't even stop to think earlier that scissors constituted a weapon (and they were the little arts-and-crafts safety scissors that kindergarten students use). They had to be confiscated, and I gladly relinquished them without a fuss, picked up my now untainted luggage, and quickly hopped aboard the ship. I again sighed with relief. Of course, I gulped again when I realized how I would have to disengage the duct tape from my inner thigh. After locating me and my brother's room, I went to the bathroom to perform the expectedly painful deed I had to do, completely scissor-less! It took me several minutes of slowly peeling and wincing, but it wasn't really as bad as I thought it would be. I thought about trying to track down something to cut the tape with, but I couldn't think of anything they would actually loan me that wouldn't be considered a weapon.
I had some light dinner with my family after leaving the bathroom, and then waited until later that night to proceed with my plans...
Around 9:00pm, December 31st, the cruise-ship was somewhere between Los Angeles and Mexico, about a hundred miles offshore. There was ocean as far as the eye could see, and there were noticeable swells in the ocean. The skies were partly cloudy, and there was a light mist of rain intermittently. Aside from that, it was a particularly warm night (oddly enough, considering the rain, the time of year, and the location). I was ready to take my first pill of ecstasy. I retired to the bathroom again and turned on the shower faucet. I planned on taking a quick shower anyway, and proceeded to do so. After my shower was complete, I left the faucet running while I opened my little baggie. For some reason, I had decided it would be fun to snort my first pill, considering I've never snorted a whole one before all at once.
I crushed the whole thing up, pounded the remains into oblivion with my perfectly flat library ID card (don't you hate it when you use a credit card, and the little bits of colorful powder get stuck in the grooves?), and prepared a surprisingly long line of orange dust. I gasped at how a tiny pill could provide a line of such size. I quickly thought it more intelligent to break up the line into three smaller lines, and then I proceeded to rail the whole 'happy meal' up slowly, alternating nostrils with each line (my friends, you have witnessed the future of fast food).
I coughed a little at the sensation of having a portion of the line impact the back of my throat. This is probably the grossest aspect of snorting pills of ecstasy, in my humble opinion. I felt like my sinuses were covered in dirt (essentially, this was true!) and I gagged a bit. I went to the sink to snort up a bit of water to wash out my nose and kill some of the stinging sensations, and then I killed the shower and left the bathroom, got dressed, and decided on my next move. I thought it'd be incredibly fun to go up to the main deck and be amongst the stars as the drug hit me. This turned out to be yet another mistake.
I put on a leather jacket and walked slowly to the top of the cruise ship. I was a little jittery by this point, but not significantly, and I reasoned that I could easily handle this. Once I got to the deck, around 9:45pm (about seven minutes after taking the pill), it was unbelievably crowded with people, and they were blaring loud party music. Not your typical 'spooky ecstasy music' as David Alan Grier once put it, but run-of-the-mill New Year's Eve party music -- '1999' by Prince, and similar stupid dance songs that you'd find on all sorts of cheapo compilations. I started to feel a little dizzy, so I made my way to the railing on the side of the boat and watched the ocean. Suddenly I began to be a little short of breath, and it sounded like the annoyingly loud music was starting to quiet down. Soon, it felt like all noise was slowly diminishing as I started to dwindle down into my own world. I grasped the railing as I felt a wave of nausea overcome me. I had never come up that quickly, and around that much aural and visual stimulation, it was just too much.
My breathing became a bit more labored, and I knew I had to get out of there. I didn't feel comfortable spewing over the edge of the boat, so I attempted to get back to my room. But there were too many people around, and I was quickly becoming more confused. I wasn't going to make it. I ran up to an official and asked calmly where the bathroom was. The man told me, and then commented that I didn't look so great. I thanked him, told him I was a little seasick, and ran off to the bathroom. I had to stumble my way through several rooms to get there, and I kept thinking to myself, 'That's it Trevor, you fucked up, you're going to collapse on a cruise ship in front of your family and all these non-drug taking folk, and it's going to be a huge embarrassment!'
After finding the bathroom (against all odds), I quickly bashed my way into one of the stalls and vomited into the toilet. At that point, I held onto that porcelain lifesaver like I had done so many times on land for several minutes while I regained my mental bearings and balanced my sensorium. As soon as I felt better, I walked over to the sink and drank a couple cups of water. I suddenly felt very refreshed and wonderful. That typical ecstasy euphoria washed over me and I felt better. I decided it would be worth relaxing in my room for just a bit while I recovered.
I lay in bed and entered a trance of deep thought. My brother was there, in the room. I glanced at him for a second. He was playing a game on a Gameboy. I smiled to myself. I loved my brother very much. He was only five years younger than me. He didn't do drugs, or at least he had tried marijuana a couple times here and there. He was a good kid. I knew I had to keep in better touch with him. I totally loved him, and I never, ever said it. I thought about my mother, and I thought about how hard it is to see your kids at this age, slowly drifting away, making their own decisions, for better or worse. It actually made me tear up a bit. Familial relationships are so dauntingly complex. And, moreover, we take them for granted so often. At that point, I decided to never take my relationship with my family for granted. It was a simple realization, but under the influence of MDMA, even the tiniest thought can dramatically echo for miles inside your head.
I then asked my brother if he wanted to go up to the deck to chat for a bit. He nodded, probably confused that I actually asked to spend some quality time with him. I wasn't afraid that he'd think I was on something -- usually when I roll, my eyes don't dilate that significantly, and furthermore the deck was a bit dark and it wouldn't have been noticeable. Up on the deck, we found a quieter area away from the partygoers, and we chatted about life, my parents' divorce, my brother's relationships with girls, school, and all these things we never even bothered discussing before. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a real brother. Before this, my relationship with my brother was that of an older brother talking down to a younger one, a mostly superficial acquaintanceship. At that point, he was my best friend, something I had always missed out on. We were equals at that moment.
I let him run off for a bit after talking for a good half an hour. By this point I was peaking nicely, and I decided to go for a swim in the jacuzzi. I tracked down a towel and some trunks and jumped in. The rain had now escalated to a heavy drizzle. Coupled with the gloriously comfortable heat of the jacuzzi, it was a wonderful experience. There I was, rolling balls, in a jacuzzi, in the middle of the pacific ocean. Now that's unique. I felt like I was in a womb.
I pretty much ran out of things to do after I took my second pill about two hours into the experience. I realized that without having anyone to experience ecstasy with or, for that matter, have anyone to even tell about my experience, I felt a bit bored and restrained. I decided to cut away my expectations of having a social roll as I had become accustomed to, and to focus on myself. I took numerous walks around the deck, observing people and thinking about my current life goals and what they needed to be. I waltzed through the casino a few times, and couldn't help but realize how pointless and life-sucking gambling can be! Although, it was nice watching the lights.
I bought a glass of juice, and sat on a lounge chair on one of the observation decks, watching the stars. Suddenly my mother crept up behind me and yelled 'Boo!' She was holding a cup of coffee and wanted to visit. My first thought was to tell her I felt a little ill and to retire for a bit until I had come down significantly. I was most certainly high, and mothers have a knack for noticing even the slightest change in personality with their kids. I had planned on talking to her a bit later, but definitely not now. But, something inside my head told me I'd be fine, and that it would be great to chat with her, even in my current state, and possibly especially in my current state.
We had a very deep chat about her divorce, what direction I was going in and how I needed to change, school, her family, things about her upbringing I never knew -- it was just so fantastic to probe into my mother's mind like I never had before. She was my friend at that point. We had reconnected. Like my brother before, we had a fascinating discussion that I would remember forever. She never knew I was on ecstasy, and she probably never will. I wanted to tell her so bad, I ached to tell her! But I knew I couldn't. She would never understand. I wish I could use telepathy and show her how I was feeling -- I wish I could just share the experience with her. And then she would know. She would understand. But it just wasn't possible. It was okay, though. I could see the happiness in her eyes that we actually had our first real deep chat in years. And that was enough for me. For all I knew, she felt as good as I did, except naturally. I felt like I was family again.
I came down a bit later, and drifted to sleep after having another glass of tangerine juice.
After this experience, over the next few days, we all had a wonderful time in Mexico. I realized that I needed to follow my own path, and that relationships will come and go, but my family would always be there for me. It took me a bit longer to break up with my girlfriend, but once I did, I knew it was the right thing to do, and my family helped me through all of the sad emotions invoked by it. I knew at that point I was ready to continue school and be my own person. I won't say this drug directly fixed my life, but it definitely allowed me to remember all the wonderful aspects of this complex puzzle we call life, and to remember to follow your heart. As someone once said on Bluelight, 'ecstasy is like falling in love with life again'. This is completely true. MDMA is and will forever be my favorite experience.
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