Traveling without my parents really forced me to grow up and see the world with a new pair of eyes. I had to be smart and watch my own back. In my first year at BU, I got to fly to Montreal, Detroit, New York, London, and Amsterdam; all of which were pretty large and intense cities. My five senses were really challenged as I saw, touched, heard, smelled, and tasted brand new things. However, in all of my overseas travels, there was often one consistent thing I experienced: getting high.
I love being high. Wait. Don't be too quick to judge. I'm currently an employee at a top healthclub teaching indoor cycling and group fitness and get high on adrenalin and working out! All right. If you really know me, you'd know this wasn't always the case...
When I left Hong Kong in 1994 to fly to Boston, I was very well protected from the world of hard drugs. Aside from cigarettes and alcohol I really hadn't tried anything else. I had been very well educated about the consequences of drug use and I knew I would never meddle with such terrible substances. When I got to America, I quickly realised I was terribly wrong.
During my freshman year at BU, I remember working on group projects and pulling all nighters. One girl from Switzerland, Emily, pulled out some yellow pills one night and offered them to our group.
"What are they?" I asked.
"Oh nothing crazy. It's just Vivarin. Who wants some? It's two in the morning and we have seven more hours until our presentation," Emily replied.
I passed on the pills and secretly judged the others while they took a pill in their mouth and washed it down their throats with a shot of vodka. Not to be out-cooled by my group, I joined them with the shot of vodka and swallowed the hot liquid down my throat while wondering what had happened to good old fashioned coffee?
By 7AM we were almost done with our project and I was starting to get tired. That, or the effects of sipping vodka cranberries were finally taking its toll...
"Oh my God... Two more hours..." Emily moaned.
She got up from the floor where the rest of the group were huddled, scribbling away at our notes, and proceeded to work on another project at her desk. When I started to hear scratching noises, I peeked up and saw that Emily was crushing something. I looked closer and found emily cutting lines of Vivarin!
"Who wants a line?" Emily turned to the rest of the group and revealed a mirror with streaks of yellow powder. I thought she had lost her mind and gone completely mad.
"How do you do it?" asked a groupie.
Emily skillfully rolled a dollar bill and snorted a line. Two others followed.
"You guys are nuts!" I chuckled. But the peer pressure was too over whelming and I ended up opting to orally ingest 2 Vivarin pills.
By the time we got to our 9am class, I felt alive! We sat at the front of the auditorium and eagerly waited for our group name to be called out to give our presentation. I crossed my legs and pulled out my notebook, opened it to a fresh page, and laid it on my lap. As I started to take notes on the other group presentations, I noticed that I found it very difficult to write notes with a steady hand. I looked down at my chicken scratch and wondered why my handwriting looked like doodles? My hands felt fine and I started to feel a small sense of panic. I lifted my notepad and found my foot that was crossed over my grounded leg was shaking, on its own! I uncrossed that leg and grounded both feet. I took a deep breath and suddenly heard my heart thumping like it wanted to explode from my chest like an ingested alien.
I looked over to Emily and she looked like it was just another day except for the fact she had the glazed look of a Stepford Wife. I found the rest of my group and gasped when I realised they too, had turned.
When my group was finally called up to share our presentation with the rest of the class, we somehow managed to do so without a hitch. The class ended and all I wanted to do was head straight back to my dorm room where I could ditch the Stepford Wives and be alone.
I chain-smoked all the way back to the Myles Standish dorm room. Thankfully neither my room mate nor my suite mates were home so I could strip myself of my sweat drenched clothes and get under the covers of my bed. I tried to sleep but my heart was still thumping and I was wide awake. I cursed Emily for giving me Vivarin. Then I cursed myself for allowing myself to be peer pressured into taking those damned pills. And then I just wondered if I was going to survive this crazy heart palpitation. I did. And I later found out that we got an A for our group presentation.
*****
Looking back, I think it is sad to say that Vivarin, of all things, was probably my gateway drug. A couple weeks later I reconnected with Emily from our winter break and she invited me to her dorm room for a treat. She opened her desk drawer and revealed a slew of baggies that were each filled with weed or hash.
"What do you want? I have stuff from France, Armenia, Afghanistan, Nigeria, Holland, and some stuff that's homegrown," she explained.
From pot and hash, my explorations with drugs quickly escalated to acid the next week.
The acid dealer was the usual 'friend of a friend of a friend.' He sold his tabs that were all very carefully wrapped in foil. My American friend, Brenda, and I decided we'd try it out one night at a house party. Brenda also lived in Myles Standish Hall and when we met in the smoking lounge we quickly got along. She's originally from Connecticut but went to an American high school in Tokyo. We pretty much hit it off from the get go and we were both also extremely studious and never settled for anything but 'As.' I think her parents would die if they ever knew she meddled with drugs...
The night of 'the party,' we started drinking in her dorm room. What didn't we have? We started doing shots of Sambuca, vodka, Bailey's, and the list went on. We were finally ready for the final shot: acid. We carefully unwrapped the foil and on three, took a tab of acid each. We gathered our stuff and called our friends to meet us in the smoking lounge downstairs for a quick smoke before we went to the party.
At the smoking lounge, I swear I saw the tables and chairs start to breathe. They were literally pulsating. I vaguely recall seeing a two foot purple elephant run across the smoking lounge, too. Brenda and I were in hysterics! She was the only other person that saw the same things I did.
The party was a blast. Friends, cigarettes, alcohol, and pot. It's what every college student would want to find at a party. Except Brenda and I were also experiencing bursts of wild colours, dragons flying in rooms, and magical gnomes hiding from us.
"Brenda, this is insane! Wanna do another hit?" I offered?
"Sure!" Brenda replied.
"Okay, get them ready in the other room," I continued, "I'm just going to go to the toilet real quick."
When I finished my business I quickly rushed into the other room to meet Brenda. I found her sitting in the Lotus position with a cigarette dangling from her mouth.
"What took you so long, Ch'ien?" she mumbled.
I noticed she already had the tabs of acid out of the foil, and had a tab between her thumb and index finger in each hand!
"Brenda! What are you doing?" I squeeled, "You're absorbing the acid through the pores of your fingers right now!"
I charged at her and threw the cigarette that was in her mouth into the closest ashtray. I instructed her to immediately take one tab, and as she did, I headed mouth first into her other hand and swallowed the other tab. Sadly, I didn't stop there. I continued by sucking on all four fingers that had been holding each tab...
Around 4 or 5AM, we decided to head home back to our dorms at Myles Standish. I don't know what happened, but I started crying uncontrollably. It wasn't just a sniffle or a sob; I was full-out bawling!
My friends carried me to my room. Once in my suite, they were thankful to see my suite mate's lights on and they continued into his room.
"What the fuck happened, Ch'ien?" Deniz asked.
Deniz was from Turkey. He turned out to be one of my best friends while at BU. We moved into a condo in Kenmore square together for our Junior and Senior years. Friends described us as Euro-Asian Trash brothers. We went through so much together during our four years at BU, and tonight was one of his first tests to see if he would want to keep me as a friend.
My friends explained to Deniz that we had been at a party, drinking, smoking, and of course, that I did acid. Deniz exploded. I was pathetically choking and sobbing out his window.
"Do you have any of the acid left?" Deniz demanded.
Brenda confessed I still had a couple tabs left in my back jean pocket. Deniz wrestled me and stole the remaining tabs of acid and threw them out the open window.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" I screeched like a mother might have done if a stranger had slapped her child.
I ran out the suite and just remember waking up in Brenda's bed. I went into her bathroom to clean up. I looked into the mirror and saw a stranger staring back at me. I had cracked tears on my face and huge, sunken bags under my eyes. I later learned that what I had experienced was a "bad trip" coming down. I apologised to Deniz later that day and confessed that I had learned my lesson. For now...
*****
After my bad trip with LSD, I reverted back to pot and hash. But before graduating BU, I had also experimented with out-of-body experiences with opium and a fresh experience with the magical world of mushrooms. Oh, the mushrooms...
Mushrooms were like acid, but all natural. My favourite form of ingestion was brewing them in a pot of tea. I remember my friends and I would sip some Earl Grey Mushroom tea and then take a walk to look at the fairy lights, that were actually the headlights of passing cars.
Everything was always so beautiful except for the night we decided to head back to my friend's house to watch Taxi Driver. Robert DeNiro's hair turned into horns while he transformed into the devil. My friend's Godfather poster of Brando's side profile also turned into the devil; as did Brandon Lee in his "Crow" poster. I distinctly recall seeing him fly out of the poster toward me... Perhaps that was another sign telling me to stop with the drugs.
I didn't stop there either.
*****
My memories of taking drugs aren't all so bleak like those times when I came down on a bad LSD trip, or when everything turned into the devil when I was high on 'shrooms. When I graduated BU, I delved into the world of Coke and Ecstacy. It was a love-hate relationship with both drugs. The reason being that it would be a blast being high on the drug, but a total downer in the bedroom because I'd have "coke" or "E" dick (ie. I could never get it up).
When I lived with one of my best friends, Joe, we had a blast doing E together. We'd take a tab and start at Buzz (what used to be one of the hottest clubs in Boston) and then head to Rise where we'd dance till the sun rose. One time we were so bored at a house party in the South End we decided to head back to our apartment to do a booty bump so we could come back to the party with a "fresh" perspective.
We caught a taxi home and went into our drug stash and placed the tab up our butts. We had read that the flesh tissue in the rectum would absorb the drug into our blood stream a lot quicker and it worked. The two of us stopped off at a 7-11 to buy their entire stock of canned whipped cream to bring back to the party as party favours. The cabbie had to honk at us because we were finding it hard to tear ourselves from touching all the cold products in the fridge section. By the time we got back to the party we were both bouncing off walls and encouraging people do do cartwheels in the living room. Joe pulled out the cans of whipped cream and had party guests doing "whippits" where they just inhaled the nitrogen from each can.
Another great E experience came when Joe and I, along with six other friends, headed down to St John in the Caribbean. We flew there because four friends were working there for six months, and we heard there was going to be an amazing meteor shower and we wanted to see it while high on E. After a whole day of drinking on Jost Van Dyck Island on their pay-at-the-end "honorary system," we set out to a secluded beach on St John to prepare for the Shower. We all took a tab of E and started rolling around in the sand. While I was on my back, Joe lifted me up by my shins and swung me around like I was a set of helicopter blades. It felt incredible swinging in the air while I looked up at the dizzy array of stars.
When the meteor shower started it was truly magical. I was spinning without moving. The stars lapped my toes with each turn of a wave. The tiki torches we lit didn't reveal the crazed faces of the old men in the distance that had been doing this for years.
*****
All of my previous drug experiences never prepared me for the pot I smoked in Amsterdam. My ex-girlfriend from Island School, Marjon, was my link to Holland. She finished her uni years in the Netherlands since she was originally from Holland.
When we both went off to university, Marjon and I remained very close and always kept in touch. I went to Amsterdam almost every year and it was her friends that introduced me to the "coffee shops" in Amsterdam where you could by hash filled "Space Cakes" and buy weed and hash at these locations. After visiting these coffee shops I had to try my hardest not to get run down by cars and bikes on the winding streets of Amsterdam.
My ultimate experience of getting high in Amsterdam occurred when I flew there for Marjon's wedding. Screw any other drug I had before. Even all the hash and pot I tried at the Dutch coffee shops could not have prepared me for what Marjon had in store for me.
As a thank you for coming to her wedding, Marjon asked her close friends to "hook me up" with some "good shit." Claude and Yvette, who were a couple, rose to the challenge.
Two nights before Marjon's wedding, Claude and Yvette invited Marjon and I to their little "woonboot," or houseboat, on the river for a "smoke-up." It was a very cosy place, that I remember. Marjon rang the doorbell and I felt so excited I thought I was about to meet Madonna. Claude greeted us at the door and directed us into their sitting room where two other fellas sat smoking cigarettes with Yvette.
"Ch'ien!" Yvette welcomed me into the sitting room. She treated me like a bestie even though we had just met a few days earlier.
I kissed her three times on alternating cheeks like how the Dutch greet each other and sat down on the sofa beside her. Marjon sat on the other side of the coffee table with Claude. The two guys just raised their hands and waved a small hello to me. They sniggered when they heard I was visiting from Boston.
"So you want to try some real pot, huh?" Guy#1 asked me in his heavy Dutch accent. Guy#2 chuckled.
My five new friends began conversing in Dutch with a few giggles here and there. I felt myself shrinking into the couch. Wait a minute! Fuck you. I've done it all. I can handle whatever you give me. Bring it! If only I had the nerve to expressed my thoughts out loud.
"Ch'ien, are you ready to try some real Dutch pot?" offered Claude.
"Sure," I replied as I tried to keep my cool.
"Please be careful, honey," Yvette warned me.
"This pot is nothing like the shit you get in America," Guy#2 added.
I assured them I would be fine and that I had done plenty of strong substances already. I wasn't about to let these two Dutch bastards look down on me! One of them started rolling a thick joint. I took a big slurp of my wine to wet my throat in preparation of the hot smoke I knew I'd be inhaling. I started some small talk.
"It's a shame Farrah didn't want to join us tonight," I said to Marjon. Farrah was Marjon's best friend who flew in from London for the wedding.
"She really wasn't interested and she knows she's a light weight," Marjon replied.
A light weight? Now I'd seen Farrah get crunk with the best of them and never thought she'd consider herself a light weight. Was this Dutch pot really going to be that strong? The cigarette smoke in the sitting room was starting to burn my eyes and I excused myself."Yvette, sorry, where's your toilet?" I asked.
"Just go straight ahead and it's on your right," she said.
I found the rest room and locked the door latch behind me. They had such a quaint little bathroom. I noticed this was the only bathroom in their cosy houseboat. The standing sink, bathtub, and toilet fit snugly in the small space. I took a leak and reached to flush but noticed there was no flush handle. I looked around and found they really had an old fashioned toilet where the tank was above the toilet and they had one of those pull chains. So cute! I pulled the chain and was so childishly amused at the old fashioned contraption.
As I washed my hands I heard the crew laughing out loud in the sitting room.
"Ch'ien, get your shit together and put your game face on," I told myself as I dried my hands on the hand towel.
"Ch'ien, come quick, we've already gone one round without you," Yvette reached out the smoking joint in her hand.
The sitting room no longer smelled like stale cigarettes. Instead, it was filled with the sweet aroma of green. I took a seat back next to Yvette and took a long, slow drag of the Dutch pot.
"Good, right?!" Guy#1 slapped my back as I handed him the joint.
"Yeah, very smooth," I responded.
"Of course! We have the best!" added Guy#2.
In all honesty, I felt a minor anti-climax. I didn't think the pot was that special at all. But I didn't want to be ungrateful, and as I looked around the room, Claude and Yvette wore such proud smiles I couldn't find the heart to say anything negative.
The group proceeded to tell me some Dutch jokes as I sipped more of my wine. I laughed even though I didn't find the jokes terribly funny. Marjon passed the joint proudly as she was one who never got high. The joint continued to move from hand to hand and finally came back to me. I put my glass of wine down and took another long, slow drag. I held the smoke in my lungs and handed the joint over. Guy#1 sneered a comment in Dutch to Marjon.
"Ch'ien, are you okay?" questioned Marjon. "They're impressed you haven't conked out yet," she added as she pointed to the two hooligans.
I coughed the smoke out of my lungs. I gave the group a thumbs up and they cheered. I finally felt like I was being included with these guys. Finally! But my sense of triumph quickly faded as I watched the joint passed along to the next smoker. I felt my entire body grow numb. I started to hear a ringing in my ears. I saw Marjon looking back at me.
"Ch'ien, are you sure you're fine?" she asked.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," I assured even though I wasn't sure at all.
When the joint got back to me for my third hit I was worried what would happen with another drag.
"Is our American friend done for the night?" Guy#1 mocked.
Not to be outdone I took the joint and took another hit. I quickly passed it along. I lost almost all my senses. I was completely immobilised.
"Ch'ien, seriously, are you okay?" Marjon's concern could no longer be held back.
I'm okay. I wanted to say. But I couldn't even speak. I blinked at her and smiled. The two Dutch hooligans gave themselves a high five and started laughing and speaking in their native tongue. Between my paralyzed state of mind and the ringing in my ears, I was left defenseless to their mocking. After much internal struggling, I finally managed a thumbs up and a wider smile. I sat there like a sad Asian wax figure. I couldn't move, yet I had never felt so relaxed.
When the blunt came back to me I couldn't even reach for it. I pathetically shook my head and looked over to Guy#1 to take it. I looked over to Marjon for help. She knew exactly what had to be done.
"Well, guys, thanks so much for having us over. Ch'ien and I should head back home because Farrah and my family are waiting for us at home for dinner," Marjon offered. I knew I loved her for a reason. "Ch'ien, are you ready?"
Yvette kindly helped me up and I instantaneously felt a shift in my stomach. I shook the guys' hands good-bye and kissed Yvette three times on alternating cheeks.
"Ch'ien, I can't believe you got so fucked up," Marjon whispered in my ear.
"I know... Sorry... Just give me two minutes okay? I need to use the toilet real quick," I replied.
I found my way back into their rest room and quickly pulled my pants down and sat on the toilet. I was so high my body was so relaxed I released what I thought was the biggest turd I ever let out of my body. I could have been on that show "I Didn't Even Know I Was Pregnant."
My body was like jelly. It took every ounce of strength to lift myself off the toilet seat to wipe my butt and buckle up my pants. I reached around to pull the flush chain and was puzzled when I didn't hear a flush even though the chain was in my hand... I had pulled it so hard that I pulled the entire chain off the tank! I looked into the toilet bowl and saw what could have been three dark aborted babies. I was horrified.
I turned around and turned on the faucet and tried cupping water into the toilet bowl to make everything go away. The chocolate babies weren't going anywhere. It needed the flushing suction from the tank. I tried looking into the tank but couldn't figure out such an old contraption.
"Ch'ien! Are you okay in there?" Marjon started knocking on the door.
I quickly unlocked the door and explained the situation to Marjon and she laughed so loud the others in the sitting room could hear.
"What's going on over there?" Yvette was curious.
"Oh my god. Don't tell them!" I pleaded to Marjon.
Marjon ignored my plea and responded to Yvette in Dutch. I wanted to die.
"Oh no worries, Ch'ien," Claude yelled from the sitting room.
I rushed into the sitting room and apologised like my life depended on it. The two hooligans had already started smoking a fresh joint. Were they too stoned to understand what had just happened?
Marjon and I laughed about the whole experience on our way back to her place. My shit was sitting two meters above the Amstel Canal that would eventually lead into the North Sea... That pot was seriously like no other shit I had ever had, literally. Would it be inappropriate for me to ask Claude and Yvette for more at the wedding two days later even though I clogged their only bathroom in their houseboat?
*****
I honestly look back fondly on my days of drug use, like I was living vicariously through a younger brother I never had. I'm glad I experienced them and feel lucky I was able to move on. When I see my old coke dealer, Cupcake, out at bars, I'm proud that I no longer slide over to him to ask for a "slice of pizza."
I graduated BU Magna Cum Laude. Drugs have also never interfered with my professional life either, for the most part...
When my good friend Joe accepted the fact he was an alcoholic, it was a time for me to reflect on my own addictions and I decided to cut out the hard drugs from my life. In my travels overseas, I played with the devil by trying out all sorts of drugs. But in my travels overseas, I have also been extremely fortunate to have met so many friends who have acted as angels and guided me to a healthier lifestyle.
Now when I travel overseas, it's to find amazing hiking trails, compete in triathlons, swim in oceans, and to get high purely on adrenalin.
I still try and fly back to Amsterdam as much as I can. Marjon eventually gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Tijn, and she asked me to be his Fairy God Mother. Lady, please, Fairy God Mother's can still play in the Red Light District's coffee shops for some good ol' Space Cake!
