The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Sunday, Debtember 30, 2001

The Big Q

NyQuil, NyQuil, NyQuil, we love you; you giant fucking Q!

—Denis Leary

   The Nighttime,
     Sniffling, Sneezing,
   Coughing, Achy,
Stuffy Head, Fever
   So you can Rest
and Have a Good
   Morning Medicine



Now I see why Denis Leary loves NyQuil.

In her ongoing battle to cure me, Spring gave me some NyQuil since we were all out of Robitussin (one of the active ingredients in both is Dextromethorphan, a cough suppressent).

In thirty seconds I was out, and within 45 seconds I was tripping.

Now mind you, I rarely take medications or drugs so this is pretty new to me and it seems that certain … um … effects take rather easily to me. I remember back when I was thirteen or fourteen, sitting at the dentist's office waiting to have my wisdom teeth pulled. The dentist left me in the chair breathing nitrous oxide for what seemed to me about half an hour. During that time everything turned white. White on white. Beautiful. And I was floating. And flying.

And quite high.

The dentist later remarked that he had never seen anyone laugh so hard from taking nitrous oxide (aka “laughing gas”). It was good enough that it left me waiting for my next visit the following week to have even more wisdom teeth pulled out (but the second time wasn't nearly as good as the first time alas).

So yes, since I rarely (usually only when prescribed) take drugs, when I do they usually hit me quite hard.

So I lay there, passed out on NyQuil, my legs stretching out to inifinity, my right arm slowly growing fuzzy—not hairy fuzzy but quantum fuzzy, like it was probably there within a certain area usually defined by the volume taken up by my right arm, give or take an inch or two. And then things got wierd. I think.

I don't remember much other than waking up some twelve hours later quite dehydrated and still feeling groggy.

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