5-MeO-AMT: A Survivor's Cautionary Tale
by GrandTheftAudio
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A wise man once said that we are all "Created Equal",
but in January of 2004, I learned that everyone's
tolerance and reactions to drugs aren't.
Arriving at a
rave, I met some friends there and one of them was
violently vomitting. When I asked if he was alright,
another friend told me that he had snorted way too much
5-MeO-AMT, a research chemical that I was told makes
you "trip face."
Excited at the intrigue of a drug I'd
never tried before, I had to get my hands on it.
Luckily, it was a good friend of mine who'd brought the
AMT so it wasn't hard to find. He told me that he had a
little left, but it was stuck to the inside of the jar.
Be that as it may, I was determined, being the curious
experimentalist that I am. So, I brought the jar into a
bathroom stall with me and, with a pencap, scraped out
"bump" by "bump". I snorted and snorted without keeping
count, because, "Hey, they're only little bumps... I
wanna trip HARD."
Before I go on I should note that the
blame should be placed on no one but myself. I
shouldn't have been so hasty and careless with the
little education I had on the drug, but later I was
informed that the first two TINY bumps of the 99.9%
pure drug I snorted were more than enough, and
5-MeO-AMT shouldn't be snorted in the first place.
Anyway, as the night went on the beats kept bumping and
my stomach started to turn more and more. Before
vomiting, I remember asking a friend how much my
"puking buddy" had taken and I was assured that his
dosage far surpassed mine. Looking over at him, he
appeared to be having the time of his life. So with a
bit of relief and a stomach full of ecstacy, I ran to
the bathroom and let it all out, thinking, "Damn, I
wonder if my pill just got flushed down the drain."
It
was all downhill from there. I remember I started to go
blind I was tripping so hard. It felt like in the blink
of an eye, I was surrounded by my friends in silence on
a stairwell in the back. One of my friends had his arms
and legs wrapped around me, I shook him off me in a
confused state. As I stood up, I'd wondered why the
music had stopped, but before I could make it back to
the dancefloor, two police officers threw me against
the wall, handcuffed me, and dragged me into an
ambulance where I was strapped down and taken to the
hospital. I hadn't a fucking clue what was going on.
I woke up the next morning handcuffed and still tripping
with my mom waiting at my side. I went home and slept
all day and didn't find out until the next day that
that blink of an eye was actually a few hours that I
have no recollection of: a COMPLETE blackout.
Apparently it was enough time to throw myself around in
a violent rage where I physically attacked a bouncer
three times my size (me being a mere 5'5 at 145) along
with my closest friends who said when they pleaded with
me to stop I "looked right through them." A year later,
I'm fine with no damage I'm aware of but only thanks to
my friends and the educated people at DanceSafe who
knew what to do. I'm still using and abusing to this
day so I'm not trying to preach. All I have to say.
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