People who do mushrooms and DMTs often praise their effectiveness in providing an out-of-body experience, opening your mind to new things and providing new understandings of the world and making you feel more connected with the universe. If what I had was an out-of-body experience this past Saturday night, I am NEVER doing mushrooms.
At the ill-fated party in Cabo, I downed quite a few drinks beforehand (we were instructed to take a shot of bourbon as soon as we took our seats, which I regarded suspectly and which prefaced a pretty raucous night) but then various rounds of alcohol started making their way around the very small circle of poeple partaking in the drinking of that alcohol (the parents' babies started moving out of the party). There was also a Johnnie Walker Black Label bottle that was floated around for consumption, and out of an abundance of breaking out of a somber mood I challenged myself (always a bad idea with alcohol) to finish the bottle of Johnnie Walker before the night was over. It was good for 10 or 20 minutes! I praised the smoothness by which the Johnnie Walker went down, not even needing coke to mix in as a rum-and coke (or jack-and-coke drink) and also because I didn't want the caffeine to keep me up all night, and had a nice buzz going but felt totally alert, in control of myself. The straw that broke the camel's back, however, was yet another round of shots that was wheeled around (it's apparently very easy and convenient for people to buy rounds of shots at an open bar or all-inclusive resort) and also because last call was at 10PM for a family-oriented establishment, trying to get us out of the bar area so nearby hotel guests could go to sleep at a reasonable hour. That last shot was likely the one that tipped me over, and the blood-alcohol level really spiked to uncontrollable levels.
The worst thing about being intoxicated is the loss of control over one's body; even when I'm sick or feeliing dizzy on a plane, or haven't gotten enough sleep all day and feel miserable, at least I feel in control, like I could ask my brain to move my foot and it would do it, no problem. That wasn't the case Saturday night. I didn't feel like I could even open my eyes, much less control my body to get up or move anything else. It was like a lucid dream, not that I was trying desperately to move but just couldn't, it was that I was in some other world where moving wasn't really an option, it just wasn't something. I also felt irrational thoughts, like paranoaia and deep concern for something but not panic bells like my hair was on fire or I needed to pee real bad or anything, it was just a bit of a dread taht the world was ending, or life was ending, and a deep conviction that I never wanted to feel this one way again. In many ways of feeling like an "astral projection," I did feel like I was floating above my physical body, like I had left it briefly and wasn't in charge of that body, I was just something else in space. Thinking back now, wow that was some seriously strong Johnnie Walker or shots. Or was it? I kept thinking that somebody had drugged the alcohol, put some DMTs in there or other hallucinogens that was causing me to lose my mind, but the next day I didn't hear of anyone else suffering as badly as I did, so maybe I just took it really poorly?
If I don't go back to Mexico again for a while, I'll be OK. Nothing against the country, but visiting areas in Mexico with heavy presence of U.S. tourists always reminds me of how the rest of the world must see the wretched excesses of American culture, yet they are forced to cater to them because the tremendous wealth they bring to regions with their tourism money. Mexicans in Cabo treated us all with respect like addressing me as "senor" and greeting with "hola," but it all felt like a forced level of hospitality and gratitude, like a reverse "Get Out" situation where they secretely hated us for being able to take a vacation like this when they had to work in their country and get paid low wages, that we were only there for the weekend or however long we wanted to be there but then could just go back home, while they were stuck there for the foreseeable future. The level of resentment, if not outright derision, was not apparent but definitely boiled beneath the surface. They were definitely NOT happy for us, as opposed to U.S. places might at least commiserate with other U.S. people being on equal footing, it's just pretty depressing being among that atmophere. Although I know this type of thing happens anyway even if I'm an ostrich putting my head in the sand, I just don't consider it vacation to visit those type of places when the feeling of superiority and inferiority hangs in the air.
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