When my Dad was on the dole around the 80's (or whenever he was around 18-19), he and his mates used to go around the forests of western Ireland mushroom picking, get a bit tripped and hang out. Him and a mate were back at my Grandmother's house just about to sort through the mushrooms they've collected for the day, making sure to separate the special ones from the regulars and the poisonous ones, when my Grandad came home, racing up the stairs to see my Dad.

In a panic and without enough time to hide them, my dad grabbed the pile of them in his hands, shoved them all in his mouth, and swallowed. Now he didn't know if he'd just eaten a shit-ton of poisonous ones, trippy ones or worse... bland ones. Once Grandad had said his hello how are ya's and chatted for a bit, Dad and his mate went to the pub which was conveniently across the street from his house, met up with his mates and started to drink.

Half an hour into the pub and my Dad began noticing things. First, colours became more vivid and interesting. Sound wasn't working quite right either, as if he stared at the TV it was just multicoloured static with normal voices (football or something, he wasn't entirely sure considering he couldn't see it), but when he looked away the sound became garbled and almost alien. His friends had also noticed that he was tripping, and my Dad started to get uncomfortable. He decided to cut the pub short and just get home before his trips got worse, and so got up and left... only he couldn't quite the hang of it.

The floor was wavy, almost like he was walking on someone's voice on an oscilloscope, and had to "lift his legs over the waves" to get out of the pub and to home. He spent the few hours tripping balls in his bed and giggling.