Citation: Mike. "Pace Yourself Race Horse: An Experience with 4-Methylmethcathinone (exp97666)". Erowid.org. Dec 22, 2012. erowid.org/exp/97666
Back story: My friend, who will here be known as Andrew, his boyfriend Oba and myself had taken 1 week prior to this experience what we thought at the time was MDMA. It was a great experience and we felt absolutely on top of the world. We insufflated about 0.35g each, in three doses over the course of about an hour and a half. Our group of friends has had fun experimenting with all sorts of ďstandardĒ substances in the past (largely LSD, MDMA, cocaine, cannabis, alcohol, etc.) in usually a pretty responsible manner from trusted sources. Obviously, Andrew, Oba, and I wanted to share this new and extremely pure 'molly' we had found with our friends.
We planned to go to a concert the following weekend at a familiar music venue relatively near by. There would be a grand total of eight of us, and I wish to clarify that I am only speaking to my experience with the drug we later found out was mephedrone. Andrew was sort of our middleman and bought a total of 11g for us all to partake in, with the intention of selling the leftovers to the same group of friends in the following weeks. We divided several 0.5g bags to split between two people each, but we ended up bringing all the remaining with us, because we know from the weekend before that we would want more.
9:15pm-9:30pm: This is where my documented experience will begin. We arrive at the venue. The main act doesnít start until 11:30pm, and there are three openers, which we are also excited about, but not necessarily dying to see. We head down to the bar in the basement, a large room with couches, coffee tables, and TV screens with live feeds of whatís happening on the main stage upstairs. We chill out and take turns going into the bathrooms to take bumps. Just to note, Andrew, Oba and I are the only guys in the group, the other five are girls, my girlfriend among them. My girlfriend comes out of the bathroom with our bag and I take it into a menís room stall and do two little sniffs off the end of a wooden coffee stirrer. Shit burns like fuck, but I feel pretty good as I leave the bathroom. I feel athletic, confident, strong, light, and happy. Iím excited for the show, and Iím excited that all my friends seem to be having a good time as well. Iíve got this big goofy smile on my face, and looking around at all my friends, they do too.
9:30pm-10pm: Weíre all hanging around at the bar, some people are drinking, but at this point Iím good with just water. I remember feeling like alcohol could only have diminished this feeling of extreme clarity and focus that I was experiencing at the time. At around 9:50 I do four more (slightly larger) sniffs and some of the girls and I go outside to smoke menthol cigarettes. We all feel so talkative and open. Iím very close with these people already, but at that time we had no qualms taking about our sexual fantasies, relationships, strange birthmarks, or what have you. Iím feeling euphoric at this point, and the fact that I know I havenít even done that much yet is making me feel even better. We chat with random people out on the sidewalk, what to them must have like small talk felt like deep, connective conversations to us. We decide to go back in, do some more 'molly' and see the last opener before the final act comes on.
10pm-10:30pm: We rejoin the full group in the basement bar, which is still pleasantly sparsely populated. Everyone goes to do more. When I get the bag back from my girlfriend (lets call her Patti, for convenience sake) I do a fat line off my phone in the bathroom. As Iím leaving I feel really great, the best Iíve felt so far. I felt so confident, the polar opposite of anxiety and paranoia. Everyone was so friendly at this club, the bouncers, the bartenders, and everyone there to see the show. I remember feeling so perfect and happy, like nothing could go wrong and that snorting lines in a bathroom was so much more pleasant and less sketchy than smoking a joint in the same place. It was a really clean locale too and filled with pretty average looking members of society, not the grifty looking type you find in some places. We all decide to have one more cigarette (which turned into 3 more cigarettes and several more revealing conversations in front of the venue) before going up to catch the final opener.
A little more backstory: It should be noted that Andrew, Oba, and I had our suspicions that what we had taken the weekend prior was not actually MDMA, but something else entirely. For one, with molly we had never experienced this urge to keep doing more and more and more. For the entire week between our first experience and the one Iím now writing about, I had had this dull constant desire in the back of my mind to do more. Well, it turns out Oba and Andrew had done A LOT more that week, a total of about 3g each on different nights. I figured that Molly would have built up a tolerance in their systems by that point so this was definitely a red flag. I also remember my comedown the weekend before being a little rough: I couldnít sleep and I felt bored and unmotivated. Of course, at this point, I was on top of the world and didnít care about a thing. How could a drug that felt this good be bad for you?
10:30pm-11:30pm: We make our way to the front of the crowd, which isnít difficult because thereís still hardly anyone there. The music playing feels great! Itís a sort of trance/electro/house/funk thing with real instruments and a great female singer. I was really digging it and couldnít stop dancing. Iím still feeling absolutely euphoric at this point, but I also note another difference between this experience and my molly experiences of the past. My drive to dance feels like more of a result of my urge to move than any deeper connection to the music. I wasnít getting that goose-bump inducing ecstasy, that musical trance that comes with MDMA. I feel like moving hard and fast and thatís it. Even when the music stops, I find myself continuing to dance. Everyone else looks like theyíre having a great time, weíre all dancing hard and giving no fucks, but when I look up at Oba and Andrew, they look awful. Andrewís eyes are sunken and baggy; Oba looks distant and theyíre both pouring sweat. I ask Andrew if heís OK. He nods, smiles and gives me a thumbs up over the blare of the music. That makes me feel better, and I put it out of my mind. I feel dazzled at this point, a little loopy and my memory gets a little hazy at this point.
11:30pm-2am: I find myself in the bathroom again doing two fat-ass lines off my phone. So at this point Iíve probably done +/- 0.4g. BOOM. This is the climax of my experience. I remember not giving a single fuck about anything in the whole world at this point. I accidentally drop my metro card into the toilet. But who fucking cares, right? I grab that fucker out of the toilet and wash it off in the sink, no problem. Iím walking briskly around the bathroom activating all the motion sensitive paper towel dispensers, faucets, toilets, and hand dryers and just thinking that was pretty much the greatest thing ever when all of a sudden I hear an explosion of bass and applause from above me. The show! I almost forgot!
I head upstairs, loving every single step of my journey. I have SO much energy. When I get upstairs I canít believe how big the crowd has gotten since I was last in there. Itís packed, even to the very back of the floor. All of a sudden, Patti jumps out of the crowd, grabs me by the wrist, and whips me through the throng to the very front, where the rest of our crew was having a blast. I know I must have pissed a lot of people off getting to center stage (Iím a pretty big guy, 6'2', 185 lbs, long and gangly) but I just knew at the time that a 'tow' to the front was exactly what I needed. The show is absolutely amazing! It was a sensory overload, and I literally had all the energy in the universe to deal with it. We stay there in the front for about 2 hours, all of us occasionally licking our fingers and taking bumps right there in the crowd. The style of the main act was definitely sample/hip hop/indie and they brought all sorts of musical guest stars out. At one point I was so fucked up that I thought that Wiz Khalifa was out on stage with Maria Carey.
So at this point Andrew and Oba still look like meth heads (only mildly worrisome for my intoxicated brain), Patti is rolling very hard and canít stop telling me how much she loves me and all of this deep stuff that I am too brain dead to process, and everyone else is just dancing and having a good time. Eventually, the show comes to an end.
2am-3:30am: Before we leave, we all do a bit more in the bathrooms before wandering out into the streets. Iím still pretty loopy and on top of the world at this point and I donít have a good gauge on how everyone else is feeling. We go to a random bar we walk by with this cool outdoor garden area, and hang out and order some drinks. Suddenly some random guys from the show turn up. I think some of the girls invited them, but my brain is not functioning well at this point and Iím not sure. Well just about as soon as these guys show up, all of our girls want to leave, including Patti. I consider going back with them but then realize Iíd rather stay out. Something about this drug makes you never want the night to end, and thatís how I was feeling at the moment. Pretty soon, the bar closes, and everyone weíd been there with originally is gone. Only Andrew, Oba, and I remain and we decide to walk almost 2 miles to this big scenic bridge, just for fun.
3:30am-5:30am: As we walk, we consistently take more bumps off our fingers. We talk fluidly and openly, sharing deep thoughts and knowing that theyíll be well received. I know Andrew pretty well, but I barely know Oba, who is from the UK, and I found it wonderful to get to know him better. We all keep expressing how great we feel but we also note that after each new dosing, the effects peak and come down more quickly. Iím less worried about the two of them now; they look less sickly and seem to have more energy and be in better moods. It felt great to wander in the wee early hours of the morning, having the streets (almost) entirely to ourselves, although in retrospect it was a little sketchy at times. At around 5am, after having been power walking for more than an hour, we get to the bridge. We go down on some rocks by the water to smoke a joint and look at the city skyline when we realize at some point, weíd dropped the pack of cigarettes with the joints in it. We backtrack a little ways but eventually give up. This considerably dampens our spirits, and while I still feel the energy within me, the euphoria now fades.
5am-9am: We catch a cab back to Andrewís apartment, and smoke there. At this point Andrew and Oba themselves are worried about how much theyíve done. I remember vividly at one point Oba saying in a completely serious and concerned tone of voice ďI just donít understand why we havenít died. We should have died by now.Ē This night they both probably did about 1.5g each, and keep in mind, that we are still all under the (naive) impression that what we are doing is molly. We decide to walk to a nearby park to watch the sunset, but before we go, we split 0.5g of the stuff into three more lines and bump it. This brings my dosage for the past 12 hours to a finale at about 0.6g. The euphoria doesnít come back, and even though we have just done a good amount, I feel only a rush of energy for about 20 minutes. As we walk to the park, itís getting light. There are birds chirping, people going to work, and Iím starting to feel pretty awful. We stop communicating altogether and walk in silence, a sharp contrast to the 10 hours prior. My legs feel heavy, I have a splitting headache, and I know I have to eat but Iím just not hungry. I buy some more cigarettes and a bunch of shit snack food from a deli and we continue on. I eat some chocolate covered pretzels and throw up all over the sidewalk. I end up just sipping on the juice I got and canít force myself to eat anymore. We get to the park and pretty much collapse in the middle of a field. We express to each other how anxious and down weíre feeling. We smoke another joint and that seems to make things worse. People are walking their dogs all around us and the thought of human interaction at this point is downright intimidating. We drag ourselves back to Andrewís apartment, again in silence. I gather my shit and hop on the train back home. It seems to take absolutely forever. Eventually I just get off and get a cab the rest of the way. My perception of time is completely skewed at this point and I get home and fall asleep at around 9am.
Conclusion: I sleep for the next 20 hours and wake up feeling pretty good. Some of the girls have done a lot of research at this point and have concluded that what we had taken was likely mephedrone. Andrew calls up the dealer, who in turn did some research with his dealer, and it turned out that we had indeed taken 4-methylmethcathinone. We were all really pissed, but Andrew eventually worked out a deal with the guy that left people mutually satisfied.
All in all it was a fun experience, but itís hard to pace yourself with this stuff. The come down was rough, but it was most likely a combination of how late we stayed out and how hard we kept going rather than entirely the drug itself. I still feel the craving to do more of that powder, almost 2 weeks later, and that scares me. Itís a fun party drug, but I think I would have preferred a good old-fashioned roll instead of the quasi cocaine/molly experience that I had. For a day or two I could smell the stuff on my skin and clothes, sort of like a rotten, chemically drenched sweet tart. I hope my experience shows that while you can have fun on this stuff, you usually donít want to stop having fun, even when youíre body canít do any more.
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