Updated: Apr 22, 2020

The 1st time I ate mushrooms... I was not prepared.

I'll never forget it...

My guy friend, "Jimmy" picked me up for school. We matched weed and smoked near Little Cottonwood Canyon. As he parked his car, he asked, “You want to try mushrooms?”

“Of course."


Ever since the D.A.R.E. program, I'd been curious about hallucinogens. I was the kind of the girl that used to spin around in circles during recess, and I thought mushrooms sounded fun. I’d been wanting to try mushrooms and this seemed like an opportunity.

an except from my diary:


"Charlie" my weed man/boyfriend/technically not my boyfriend because he never asked me to be his girlfriend, but it's like we're boyfriend/girlfriend "that guy" called and asked what I was doing? I told him I was going to eat mushrooms. “With who?” “Jimmy.” Silence. “That kid’s an idiot. He’s not chill at all, and you're going to have a bad trip.”


He hung up.

I felt terrible and rebellious.

I was grounded because my parents had just discovered that I smoked weed Tuesday. Kami's mom snitched on me. Then, let Kami go to Jax's cabin in Idaho while I was grounded one month for the same action. I was grounded, but allowed to have a friend over.


All day leading up to the shrooms, I had a crazy feeling inside.

I was excited. I was nervous. I had to go to the bathroom. My stomach was tingling like riding Desperado at the state line. What if Charlie was right? What if I have a bad trip with Jimmy? What if I got in trouble?

Too late.

I was too scared and too curious to cancel.


My mom took Jimmy and I out for Chinese food at our favorite joint off 114th. I ordered tofu with mixed vegetables. My mom got the chicken and rice, and Jimmy (being a guy) got beef and broccoli. The food was delicious. My mom dropped Jimmy and I off at home, while she and my dad drove to the Juan Diego Football game.

We waved goodbye,

We ate the shrooms in my kitchen.

They were disgusting.

Jimmy said they come from cowsh*t. They definitely taste like it. Mushrooms taste like eating the rawest, rotten part of the Earth. Psilocybin. We drank OJ and smoked some weed in the garage.

The doorbell rang.

I got all paranoid and realized: I'm really high.

Body. Cerebral.

High and connected to everything.

I opened the door, and it was DJ Donny Do-rag with a posse of brown boys. Bad look for the whitest suburb in Draper, Utah. I could feel my nosey Mormon neighbors poking heads out their mini-blinds. Besides, these boys had never been to my house. Why now? "You gotta go." I said. "Wanna blaze?" DJ asked. “And match my chronic to your schwag? No." I tried to shut the door. “Let me buy a bowl from you!” He reminded me of Schmiegel from Lord of the Rings and his friends were looking at me funny. Against my better judgement, I traded him a dime bag for a bottle of 99 apples. I don't even like to drink, I just wanted him to go.

As I shut the door, the shrooms kicked in full blast. I saw molecules moving in cyan/magenta, and triangle/diamonds everywhere. My chest was optimistically tingling, but my body felt super heavy. I was feeling really nice and thinking about the perfect place to sit down.

We relocated to the basement, and no sooner than we crossed the banister/threshold, the trip took a dark turn. I got a phone call from my friend Tommy C. at Snowbird who also happened to be on mushrooms. I couldn't believe it and I was so flattered he would call! I told him it was my first time tripping, and he was sharing all his insight. He asked who I was tripping with, I told him, "This guy from my school." Jimmy jumped in my face and spit, “Get off the phone! Your parents are home and they can hear everything you’re saying.”


I hung up the phone. The mood shifted. For one enlightening second, I forgot I even had parents. Now, I couldn't believe I had parents and that I ate these mushrooms and they were home! OMG$!?*@#&!

My mind was racing a million thoughts.

I'm supposed to be grounded for smoking weed?! I'm freaking high on mushrooms! Ahhh!!! I'm in the family basement tripping balls with Jimmy's bitch ass! Nooo! Charlie was right!

Oh nooooo!

I opened the garage. My parents' car was still gone. No one was home. Except Jimmy, and honestly, I didn't want him to be there any more. Jimmy scared me for nothing. Why did he say that? I descended into the basement, all skeptical and hesitant. "My parents aren’t home.” I said. “Oh good.” He replied like it was nothing at all.

I was confused.


I liked how I felt on the shrooms, but I didn't like how I felt around Jimmy.

I started to question intentions and wonder exactly why he was there?

We sat on a couch talking, and out of my peripheral, I could see our reflection in the Tv, and it looked like we were on a bad after school sitcom. He was standing up, and sitting down. I was watching and trying to process the mushrooms wondering: How much of this is a perception, or what's really happening? I was tripping out of my mind and my parents were coming home.

Just then...

Jimmy threw up on my leg.


I was mortified. The sight and smell of his regurgitated beef and broccoli mushroom stomach acid made me want to throw up. The sensation was slimy and looked like the throw-up was crawling-up my leg.

I was hysterical.

I lost all composure.

I was laughing and crying with snot dripping from my nose saying:

"This is why drugs are bad!"

To heighten my tension, Charlie grabbed the woven tapestry off the back of our couch which was a dry clean only gift from my Grandma Mimi and Grandpa Noonie, and he used it to wipe the throw-up off my leg.

There was a bathroom 7 ft away!

“Go home!” I said.

“I can’t.”

“Yes. You can!”

“No, I can't! Where am I supposed to go?”

“I don't know, but it's not here."

I felt like a b*tch, but I had to. I couldn't have him here when my parents came home. I was grounded! Omg!#! I was grounded. I never thought I'd say this, but I should have listened to Charlie. It was my first time tripping, and I had to be chill for both of us. I wanted to be alone. Especially, before my parents got home.

Jimmy left out the front door, right as the garage door was opening. The second I heard that electronic, metal chain pull back, my heart dropped. Dang! What should I do?!

What would I be doing?!


I stood against the living room wall. The garage door opened. I greeted my parents with pupils the size of pennies and the most enthusiasm I've ever had in my life: "HEY, GUYS! How was the football game?!"

"It was alright." My dad said and walked away.

Whew! Thank God, I thought. He's the more difficult one.

My mom sat in the living room and turned on the TV. My dad walked upstairs, and did the exact same. I joined my mom on a loveseat arm's length away. She flipped the channels and stopped on Rob Schneider’s “The Hot Chick”. I laughed so hard I cried. I was literally out of breath, laughing and crying really hard at the movie.

My mom turned to me and asked, “Are you on drugs?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed. “How did you know?”

The mood shifted again.


I should not have said that.

She immediately followed with a hundred crime scene investigation questions:

"Are you ok?!"

"Are you sure you're ok?"

“What are mushrooms?”

“Where’d you get ‘em?”

“How’d they get here?”

“Where is Jimmy? Is he ok?”

“How many did you take?”


I shouldn’t have told her. I wasn’t about to pull a Kami and snitch on Jimmy so I answered the questions right quick. “It’s cool, mom. I am better than I've ever been in my life, and you know what? I actually appreciate you. You should try mushrooms.”

“Come on!” She replied.

Just then, my dad walked into the living room. “Irving, your daughters on mushrooms.” My mom said all frank. He gave me a strange look, walked by, and said: “Cut that shit out.”


That was way better than I expected from him.

My parents awareness that I was high on mushrooms happened right as the mushroom high climax hit. My body was tingling and I saw diamonds everywhere. My mind was in La La Land and I was going with it. I went on a “save the world” rampage and tried to set my Cockatiel Omar free. My dad dumped Omar's bird seed all over the carpet and demanded that I vacuum it up. I resisted his authoritarian flex, and this mood shifted into an even darker realm.

I went into my room and locked the door.

I fucked up bad. I just wanted to try mushrooms. I didn't want to get all these people involved. Did I get them involved? Or did they get themselves involved? Shit, I thought it'd be cool. I like how I feel. I just don't like how I feel around other people. Every one was imposing their views and it was suffocating. Within minutes, my parents had my brother Andrew (a veteran drug user) on the phone. They insisted I talk to him

“I'm cool!" I said.

“He just wants to talk to you.” My dad burst through the door.


"Val, what the fuck are you doing?"

"I fucked up, but I feel great. Like, I wouldn't be in trouble if mushrooms were legal."

"You’re only 15, Val. You still live at home. There’s an appropriate time and place for everything and this isn’t it.”

OH, that made me feel bad!

Andrew was right.. Tuesday marijuana, Friday mushrooms! My parents must be mortified. I humbled my spirit and listened. The conversation ended in understanding and love.

I realized that everyone has a message to tell and it’s our duty to be open to the messages. We’re all misunderstood in a way, and we’re upset because we genuinely care. There’s an appropriate time and place for everything, and doing mushrooms at my parents isn't it.

I woke up Saturday morning to go to work at Snowbird, and I could feel the impact the mushrooms had on my brain. It actually hurt. I caught a ride up to work with Bob and smoked a bowl along Little Cottonwood Way. Bob, a Veteran Shroomer, explained that shrooms swell your brain stem, and that's exactly what it felt like.

On Sunday, my parents and I drove up to Sundance ski resort.

It seemed like a nice family outing until my parents said, “There’s a rehab here.” Boy, did that kill my vibe. We piled on a ski lift in awkward silence as they started a spontaneous intervention. I listened to my mom talk about Lindsey Lohan, and honestly thought about jumping off the ski lift. As they kept enchanting this

rehab notion, all I could think is:

“You assholes can’t afford it.”

The End


I have since tried mushrooms 50-100x's since my terrible first trip. It's revelatory. I've come to appreciate mushrooms as a gift from God, and have developed a deeper bond with God because of mushrooms. I love to do them at school, while I'm folding laundry, dancing to music, or hiking in the great outdoors of Utah.