My second mescaline trip also got a little out of hand. Me and three others decided to mix mescaline and acid. We each took two micro dots and one green gel tab. The only thing I noticed about mixing the two is that I had way more visuals then when I had done mescaline alone.
So, there we were, four of us sitting on the couch, taking hits from our hookah laughing uncontrollably. Things were very loud and the trip was very intense. Then, out of nowhere, I hear someone knocking at the front door. I ran over to the stereo to run it down. I walked up to the front door, and looked through the peephole. OH MY GOD!!!!!! IT'S COACH WINTERLING!!!!!! The site of our baseball coach standing there about made me soil my pants. I turned and told the guys. . . . . . . "It's Winterling. . . . . RUN!!!" I grabbed the hookah and a bag of weed then headed out the back sliding glass door. The others followed all carrying with them some sort of paraphernalia. We ran as fast as our legs would take us through the woods behind our apartment. When we thought we'd ran far enough we stopped to catch our breath. “HOLY SHIT!!! I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT JUST HAPPENED!!!!" All of us were frightened yet laughing at the same time. One of my roommates Mike was so out of it when he started to scramble from the apartment that he grabbed a set of our darts and the TV remote. He had no idea why he grabbed those of all things but I guess his mind was racing so fast he didn't have time to think so he just took the first two things he saw.
After about twenty minutes of dipping and ducking through the woods, we figured the coast was clear. We came back to find my other roommate Greg standing in the living room with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Greg was in the shower when we bolted. We left him there to deal with our coach alone. This, of course, was unintentional. We would've never left him there on purpose. To be perfectly honest I forgot he was even there. The only thing going through our minds was to get the fuck out of that apartment. Greg said Winky, as we used to call him, was only there for a minute. He came by to check out the property damage in our apartment. I guess it's a good thing we covered all those holes in the walls with posters. Speaking of posters and things on our walls, you could've taken a picture of our living room and run an ad for Spencer's Gifts with it. You've never seen so many black lights and black light posters. It was the perfect setting for losing your mind.
When the mescaline began to wear off we started wanting more. I called my ecstasy dealer and had her come by and drop off a bunch of beans for us to take later that night. . . . . . . . . . how I'm still alive to tell some of the stories I'm telling today I have no idea. . . . . . . and I haven't even got into the worst of them yet.