I picked Chuck up at the airport in Tucson. [View all]

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He had flown in from Oregon. I was living in Patagonia, a small beautiful little
town north of Nogales on a creek with two bars.
We had been friends for a long time with many experiences, including
psychedelics and more. This was about 1975.
He was telling me about sacred datura, from the Carlos Casteneda books.
We're driving south through the mountains and he says--"Look, there's
some right there."
So I pulled my pick-up over and we took a large plant, also called
jimson weed. A large green plant with huge white blossoms.
When we got back to my place we put a few blossoms in the oven.
When they were dry we smoked them. Nothing.
The next day we ate a couple of unopened blossom pods each.
Then walked to "downtown" Patagonia, a town of 600 then.
By the time I got to the bench in front of the Big Steer bar I was getting
off like gangbusters. I instinctively knew I was in over my head and
walked back to the cabin. I laid down on my mattress on the floor while
Chuck walked about ranting nonsense. His IQ was about 160.
I held the mattress with my hands while my mind went down a slide of
hallucinations, the strongest I had ever experienced. I was a bit scared.
I made it though the night and when I woke I went into the bathroom
and looked in the mirror. I had no irises, my pupils were fully dilated.
Chuck was nowhere to be seen.
My boss showed up to take me to work mixing mortar and setting
scaffold. I couldn't talk. He knew I was a mess and gave me a beer.
the solution for everything. After working a few hours and a few more beers
I came out of it and could talk.
When I got home Chuck was still gone. He was gone for two more days.
Then he was brought back to town by the sheriff. He had been in jail in Nogales,
having a psychotic episode. He said he thought I was with him the whole time,
but would hide when he tried to look at me.
I never did that stuff again.