Quote:
Originally posted by Pretty Little Flower
Oh. My. God.
Is everyone on this board an acid freak (or "former" acid freak, as the case may be)? Do you people know that that stuff fries your brain? I mean, seriously. After seven trips, you are legally insane. Which explains a lot about this board, come to think of it. I'm not some Pollyanna hyper-judgmental type. I know that there are some pot smokers and even cocaine users in our profession. But acid? What happens when you are getting ready for that big trial and suddenly the flashback hits. Did you ever think about that?
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This has nothing to do with acid, but does demonstrate that there may be something to the concept of better living through chemicals... in moderation.
So I have this huge motion about a year ago and I'm terribly hung over from a wedding that did not end until 6 am sunday morning the day before. A friend gives me something called compazine, which is a chemotherapy drug which includes, I believe, a muscle relaxant, anti-nausea drug and anti-anxiety drug. She tells me, "Just chew the pill, it'll keep you from feeling like you're going to puke any moment." Ok. I down the fucker and off I go to court. In court I begin feeling damn good again... so good that the shaking stops and paranoia that I might vomit in open court subsides. Opposing counsel goes through his long winded shpeel, and he's an obnoxious fuck and he's mistating the record, so I stand to start objecting and arguing. As I stand, I realize I'm made of rubber. My knees are loose, and the room has a pink aura about it, like I've had two stiff manhattans. But despite the strangeness of being more intoxicated than I'd like to be in court, I'm quite lucid, and my objections are sustained. By the time I get to give my opposition, I'm so calm in my delivery and the other party, an older partner who is now incensed that he's get worked by a young guy, starts flinging vitriol laced "objections" and annoying the judge. The judge, meanwhile, is giving me that "You're calm because so damn well prepared" look and I realize I'm going to win the thing. So I quickly wind up my bit and sit, and when I hit the leather chair it feels like I've settled into a bed. I feel like a sloth lounging in a tree - like I'm painted to the comfy chair. I won the motion.
I haven't used that drug since, and hope I never have to again, but but next time the guy you're up against in Court seems remarkably calm and collected, check his pupils.
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