Personally, I have had some past experience with legal highs; it would be even more irresponsible to take five different types in the course of a night if you had none. My opinion of them is lukewarm. The legal high market has come under increasing scrutiny in recent years thanks to the tireless efforts of well-known fun-police members, United Future and the Otago Daily Times, and I agree that legal highs should be subject to the same regulatory standards as other legal drugs like alcohol and tobacco. Legal highs also tend to encounter hostility at both ends of the square circle spectrum: the anti-drug public loathes them for obvious reasons, and much of the pro-drug crowd scorn them as less cool alternatives to their illegal favourites.
Anyway, armed with the Critic credit card, your humble Editor and I headed into Cosmic to select my legal drugs of choice for the evening. Ten minutes, $110, and some great customer service later, we walked out ready to begin. Our selection encompassed a range of legal uppers and downers, complete with predictably hippie-friendly labels such as Mr Trippy and Dr. Feelgood – the kind of stuff that occupies a special place in Peter Dunne’s most horrific, panic attack-inducing nightmares. Feeling a little anxious that the evening could degenerate into my own personal nightmare, I parted with the Critic staff and embarked into the “wilderness” to complete my mission.
Dr. Feelgood
I decided it might not be the most prudent idea to sit alone at my flat with only the ramblings of my legal high-addled brain to entertain me (potentially giving the ODT another headline to froth at the mouth over in the process), so I recruited/convinced a friend – a devout Muslim from Pakistan – to help me out with the serious task of consumption. Hey, it’s all part of the assimilation process man. First up on the agenda was Dr. Feelgood, which didn’t come with any real description apart from what you can infer from the name itself. After swallowing two pills with a healthy swig of goon (glass of water for my Muslim friend), I waited to start feeling good.
And then waited some more.
Our environment could have not been any more conducive to feeling good – sitting on a sweet balcony in the late afternoon sun, people-watching, and talking general smack to the backdrop of some of North Dunedin’s more lush landscapes. But half an hour later we still weren’t feeling good. And then the placebo chat fired up. Anyone who has taken drugs knows that if the placebo chat has to happen in the first place, things aren’t going to get all Fear and Loathing anytime soon.
Maybe we were being impatient? An hour and a half later, we still did not feel particularly good, nor did we feel particularly bad, but instead very similar to how we had felt before. In other words, minus a few irregular organ pains and some increased perspiration, we were about as fucking sober as Peter Dunne at any given Sunday service.
Then slowly but surely things began to change – a bit anyway. The balcony’s surroundings started to look a lot more vibrant, the barbeque reggae humming away in the background became a little more enjoyable, and conversation took a decisive turn toward the classic deep and meaningful. We were finally starting to feel good. A discernible something beyond placebo had changed – it was not great, it was certainly not “look at the fucking size of your pupils” euphoric, but it was something, and we were happy
with that.
2.5/5
Puff (Super Strength)
Next up we tried “Puff,” a synthetic cannabis product. Much like its counterpart Dr. Feelgood, Puff’s packaging contained little to no detail about the product itself. In fact, the only information on the package rather ominously stated that Puff was “not for human consumption” at all. Dismissing the statement as a legal disclaimer (and who in their fucking right mind would pay $20 for a small bag of “super strength incense”?), we lay back on the balcony and roasted half a dozen big creamy legal bills.
Relative to how disgustingly putrid legal highs can taste, Puff was surprisingly bearable. And the effects that followed were surprisingly enjoyable. No edgy paranoia, no major decline in cognitive processes, no unwanted auditory hallucinations, just a pleasantly benign feeling of general contentedness.
Admittedly I was few wines down and the sun was still blaring, but Puff did not render me the unintelligible vegetable I feared it would – and as some of its more infamous relatives are known to do.
A few more 10-second hold-downs later, and with the good – yet slightly up to fuck – Dr. Feelgood still on our side, we watched the sun go down in a big haze of perfectly legal smoke. Shit started to get a bit hippy on it after that. Our conversation seamlessly leapfrogged from potential Master’s topics to metaphysics and cosmic oneness; the kind of conversations you actively cringe at whilst having, but can’t help yourself because in the broadest wishy-washy philosophical way it all seems so right and true at the time, and also because you’re high as fuck. Not bad Puff, not bad.
2.5/5
Mr. Trippy
Mr Trippy has some character, I’ll give him that. By far the most descriptive of the bunch, our expectations were raised after reading that Mr Trippy is “herbal snuff for the adventurous, seasoned space cadet.” I was reasonably sure we qualified.
After investigating the contents of the baggie, far from the sinister, chemically white powder I was expecting, Mr Trippy smelt and looked like it would be quite at home in Gregg’s impressively large range of herbs and spices. My Pakistani companion had begun cooking a curry, and for a brief moment, we seriously considered dumping half the contents in as a flavour enhancer. I then realised that A) it would be
a waste of potentially “good” drugs, and B) my Pakistani friend’s curries are generally fucking average at best.
Multiple rails later, our noses and throats burned with the sweet hybrid scent of fennel and coriander. Our noses promptly began to leak large amounts of shitty brown liquid – a terrible look if you’re rocking out of the Pop toilets at 5.30am looking to pull – and we decided to axe the curry idea, have a few more Puff bills, and go for a walk.
An hour passed, and by North Dunedin/North East Valley standards things didn’t feel too socially unacceptable for a Tuesday afternoon as we idly strolled around without purpose. The time constraints on our mission, and the necessary amount of consumption overlap this entailed, were starting to take their toll. Each high’s distinct effects had morphed into something else. In the battle between the uppers and downers, the downers were definitely prevailing.
Mr Trippy had added something to the mix. We returned to find my flatmate at home, who made the telling observation that “we kind of looked like we were on drugs, but kind of didn’t.” This captures the essence of many legal highs. They’re okay, but not great. Head down the legal rabbit hole with realistic expectations and you may be pleasantly surprised; expect a mind-blowing psychedelic experience and you’re doomed for disappointment. Maybe Mr Kind of Trippy For a While would have been a more appropriate label, if not the best
marketing tactic.
3/5
K2 (Black)
In saying that, a short time later things began to go south for my dear Pakistani friend. Unsettled and jittery, he engaged in a series of nonsensical polemics about god knows what. What had I done? I had pushed my poor, semi-pious friend off the deep end. The “devil’s fingers” were apparently “probing” his brain. Regretting my earlier use of peer pressure, I attempted to comfort him, with little success. Maybe Peter Dunne was right. A whole bunch of psycho-babble and what sounded like a renouncement of his faith later, my friend made a swift,
unannounced exit.
Just in time too. I was ready to get into the serious shit: K2 Black. I was apprehensive – given what I’d read in the ODT, I was a little concerned that at best I’d suffer only a minor psychotic episode, and at worst, would rob the Night ‘n Day Regent with whatever weapon I could find around the flat. Half a bag later, it was patently apparent that my fears were unwarranted. Instead, I became a catatonic piece of furniture, huddled in the corner, with a dumb grin plastered on my face. I was climbing the mountain all right.
Almost uncomfortably high, I embarked on a YouTube tangent which somehow (I blame the K2) resulted in me watching “Best of X-factor auditions” clips in the early hours of the morning. I think I even got a bit teary at one stage. Powerful stuff. In my state of heightened emotion, my thoughts turned to my poor, poor – hopefully still sane – friend. Almost at that moment, I received a reassuring message from him containing several lolcat pics. My mind was instantly at ease and everything was all right.
5/5
Lion's Tail
Lion’s Tail was marketed to us as having the most subtle effects out of our selection, so I decided it was futile to try any after several hours of being legally high, and that it would be best to wait until the morning. Sleep did not come easy. I suspect Dr. Feelgood’s lingering stimulant effects came back to haunt me in a big way. And when morning came, after a few hours’ sleep at most, my weary brain couldn’t bear the thought of any more legal highs. In sum, I failed to review Lion’s Tail. My bad, head down to Cosmic and buy some yourself.
N/A
Conclusion
Legal highs are to “real” drugs what every other television show is to The Wire, what that 6/10 chick from the Break is to that girl you’ve had a crush on for two years, what tourism is to finance, you get the picture.When good old reliable “Chad” from South D isn’t texting you back, legal highs are worth taking for a whirl. Don’t expect that “knee-melting, lick your best friend’s face” or the classic “where does the couch end and I begin” type high. But shit can still get a little crazy. And they can be a lot of fun. As a lesser – yet worthy – alternative to their illicit cousins, legal highs are all right with me. Admittedly some legal highs are an absolute scam, but the market is awash with a plethora of different types that claim to do a plethora of different things. With the legislative noose potentially tightening around the market later in the year, do yourself a favour – providing you’re that way inclined and don’t suffer from major mental health issues – head down to Cosmic and get amongst, bring an ethnic friend to the party if you want, it’s all in the name of good fun.