Not that anything would have worked out well for someone grazing on edibles after 7 margaritas, but if I might make a suggestion: an edible unit should never be more than a dose. If you made cookies that are too strong to eat even one whole cookie, you goofed. They don't have to taste good, either - that's another miscue, the edible that wants to tempt you to have another. It isn't like chewing peyote buttons, the taste is something you can live through.

No matter how bad the brain circus gets, no matter how well the poisoning conspiracy theory tracks, YOU DO NOT WANT TO GET YOUR STOMACH PUMPED. It is HORRIFYING, and you want to be good and unconscious or close to that when it happens. If you are coherent enough to come to the decision that you need to go get your stomach pumped, you don't. That decision should be made for you by a medical professional.

ASIDE: A buddy of mine accidentally did 2 full hits of pure liquid LSD and had to go to work loading carrier planes at the industrial airport hangar an hour later. He was able to refrain from getting his stomach pumped. He did make out his Will.

Oh c’mon. These days you can pretty easily navigate a perfectly fine crossfade (and thanks for that terminology, with which I was not familiar). First step: think in terms of 5mg doses, not 10. They’re easily acquired at most any pot shop. This acts as a natural deterrent to foolish overconsumption. Second, lean toward indica, or indica-dominant hybrids. They massively reduce the chance of paranoia, and a body high mixes way better with alcohol. Third, be intelligent and realize your limits are lower. Consider cutting your normal drinking in half for every 5 grams, and half again if you go 10. Do you normally down 3 or 4 glasses of wine over the course of an evening out? Cut that to 2 for 5mg, or even 1 for 10. Finally, pre-plan your day. Be rested. Have good, healthy food around (and trustworthy people who aren’t prone to making stupid consumption decisions). Drink water. Just be smart about it, basically.

The March was held in 1997, I think. It's hard to remember the exact year.

Everything started out at Rainbow Valley, a field in Littlerock, WA owned by a guy named Gideon Israel. He did these "Peace Gathering and Barter Faire" events several times a year, which really amounted to nothing more than an open air drug market. We arrived in my roommate's car, paid the $15 "Magic Hat Contribution", and found a place to park. Almost immediately upon exiting the vehicle, a guy wandered over and said "3 for 10". This lead to everyone having paper on their tongue. Half an hour later, I and said roommate abandoned the cycle of friends remaining at he car with a large container hoping to find a source of clean drinking water to be used for cooking. Things got very weird very fast. Every ten feet or so, we wound up in a pot circle which lasted until the bowls were empty. By the time we got back tot he car, the jug was empty. Everyone was pissed, and asked how we could have forgotten the water. I replied that we had located water and gathered it- however, several rounds of cottonmouth led to draining said container.

A heavy sigh combined with a desire to get our hungry and complaining friends to get off my ass led to he driver's seat and the ignition turned and it was all aboard for IHOP. How exactly I made it to IHOP I do not know, however, I do remember opening the door and setting foot on the asphalt. With every step, IHOP seemed to get further away, although I walked toward it. Opening the door and being greeted with an arctic blast of air conditioning, I immediately made for a table, entourage accompanying. The walls were covered in this hideous X and diamond pattern wallpaper that appeared to move rapidly. I panicked, realizing that the entire restaurant as full of FBI, and they all knew I was stoned. My eyes frantically landed upon a glass of Sprite poured by the waitress- the bubbles calm ed me a bit, and I was able to focus briefly on my friends' conversation.

Scott said to his girlfriend, Janine, in a meaningful tone, "Tutankamun's mummy." She replied cheerfully,"Raspberry jelly".

Some time later we were back at Rainbow Valley. The night's memories are a bit dim for me, aside from the people int he car next to us walking up to me and begging me not to steal their headlights, a sensation that the entire campground d was really gigantic sofa and we were all microscopically sized, staring over the edge, and some guitarist from one fo the bands playing the venue announcing that he was having the time of his life despite being unable to move.

Anyway, after morning broke and breakfast was had, Gideon announced we were to march on the Capitol. Everyone that got into line (or something like a line, anyway) was given a hit of acid and many bowls were passed up and down the line. I had no idea why we were marching, but fuck it, I needed a walk anyway. We eventually got to Olympia and the Capitol steps, where someone offered me a beer and pointed to an adjacent port-a-potty in which to indulge. I did, and immediately regretted it.

Your article is right, edibles and booze do not mix, but what makes a far worse combination is acid and booze. Acid and pot, acid pot and opium, all that was fun and nice. But one can of beer and I immediately felt sludgy. I had this sensation like gravity suddenly was having a far greater effect on me than anyone else, and envisioned myself as a slime mold crawling along the concrete as I moved back to the rally from the toilet.

Thank god for the Reef. The one downside to King Solomon's Reef back in the day was, you occasionally would find every toilet stall occupied by a nodded off juke with a rig in his arm. If you had to pee badly enough, this usually meant shoving said junkie off the throne. Hey, at least I never pissed on one, you've got to give me credit for that at least.