Tuesday, April 10, 2007


Now that my parents are long gone from this planet and I am no longer in fear of being screamed at for hours before getting grounded for eternity, I can now admit that in my mis-spent life I have tried drugs.
On a few occasions as well.
Being the sort of person that hospitals have had difficulty knocking out for operations*, those occasions have proved rather interesting.
Picture if you will a young Misty. The year is 1983 and she's at Glastonbury festival. After being offered a joint for the fifth time she decides to give it a try and spends the next couple of hours watching the grass dancing and wondering why the stars are out during the day.
Then she gets the munchies.
After wandering around for a while, she finds her 'new best friend' who is selling brownies for 50p each. Misty buys two and scoffs them down, barely noticing the funny taste, that isn't quite chocolate.
Misty doesn't know the brownies have an extra ingredient, and ten minutes later her brain is on another planet while her corporeal self gently roasts under the scorching sun of this earth.
Misty learns to avoid heavy duty hash and brownies, and also wear a high factor sunscreen in future.
But Misty makes more mistakes. She goes to a party where most of the people are taking speed. After watching them for a while to make sure no-one karks it, she decides to give the yellow powder a try. After all, everyone else seems to be having fun, the night is young, and she doesn't have to go home that night.
Misty sniffs the powder.
Misty then promptly falls fast asleep curled up at the top of the stairs and misses the rest of the party as the revellers step over her.
Misty learns not to try any more speed.
A few years later Misty goes to another party. She has learnt not to take drugs from strangers, but some bastard decides to spike her drink with acid. Misty has what can only be described as a voyage to The Trip Out City From Hell. For the next six hours she can feel every fibre of her clothing which is alive and trying to eat her, is having great difficulty differentiating the aliens from the humans and is desperately trying to stop her mind from shattering into a million pieces as she wends her way through the labryinth of Oxford Circus underground station.
Misty learns to avoid LSD and the sort of fuckwits who spike drinks**
The accidental PCP was good though. Except for the ET part.
Misty was round at a friend's house and had run out of cigarettes. As they were just about to play the video of ET she decides to take one of her friend's roll ups.
The next thing Misty knows is that the world has turned pink and is tasting of marshmallows.
Her friend notices the rather glazed expression on Misty's face and says 'Oh shit'.
For a while Misty is rather enjoying the new, pink, fluffy world, but then the most terrifying apparition appears in front of her which causes her to whimper and hide behind the sofa. Misty runs from the flat as soon as her legs start to work, and spends an hour or so giggling at a church sign which reads 'Glory to God in the Highest'.
Misty learns to avoid ET and God.
Another year, and another party. This time Misty's friends have some cocaine, and having never tried it, Misty asks to have a little.
After the incident with the extremely sharp, but to Misty's deranged little mind very pretty sword, Misty's friends learn never to let her near cocaine ever again.

So now, being older and hopefully wiser, I just stick to my dry white wine and occasional Baileys or similar. The world may not taste of marshmallows, but it's far safer when you do like the drugs but they don't like you.

*Them: "Count backwards from 10 while we put this in your arm"
Me: "10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... now what?"
Them: "Okay, double the dose..."
**She also arranges a not so friendly visit to the person from some of her friends in low places, which she later learnt they didn't enjoy one iota. Which was nice.