Attention. Deficit. Disorder.

by Brad Listi

  “It was a total disaster,” he later said. “The people around me were sons and daughters of important people, with money and property, position and stature. I was not, and there was no social blending at all.”

  Lonely and miserable, Shulgin dropped out of Harvard in the middle of his sophomore year and joined the navy, hoping for happier times.

  World War II was in full swing.

  Shulgin served on a destroyer escort in the North Atlantic.

  During this time, he suffered a painful infection. The treatment he received involved the drug morphine. The morphine was administered, and the pain went away instantly. It was like magic. The experience had a profound effect on him. It marked the beginning of his dual fascination with pharmacology and the nature of human consciousness.

  pain n.

  1.) An unpleasant sensation occurring in varying degrees of severity as a consequence of injury, disease, or emotional disorder.

  2.) Suffering or distress.

  3.) Plural:

  a. The pangs of childbirth.

  b. Great care or effort: take pains with one’s work.

  4.) Informal: A source of annoyance; a nuisance.

  I was familiar with ecstasy. It was popular back in Boulder. People took it on the weekends, went dancing, and rubbed each other. I never really did.

  Generally speaking, I didn’t handle drugs well. I was a happy drunk, but I tended to get a little sloppy. Marijuana delivered a low-grade, somewhat amusing level of paranoia. Anything stronger than that and I wound up blowing fuses.

  Case in point: One night toward the end of my freshman year, A.B. and I got our hands on some psychedelic mushrooms. We each ate a handful and went to a George Clinton concert over at the Fox Theatre, thinking it would be an interesting experience. It was the first time either of us had ever taken them.

  Everything went fine until the mushrooms kicked in. Once that happened, I started having problems. I couldn’t stop thinking of dark and terrible things. I kept looking over at A.B., who appeared to be having the time of his life. He was clapping his hands, jumping up and down, and laughing his ass off. I tried to talk to him, but I couldn’t really make any sense. Every communication was a miscommunication. Every miscommunication spawned another layer of miscommunication. My powers of articulation were gone.

  From there, things spiraled downward. I quit trying to talk to others and started trying to talk to myself. I had nothing good to say. I talked myself into corners. My thoughts were looping. The more they looped, the more they degenerated. I started telling myself that everyone was mad at me. I imagined that I was letting everybody down, because I didn’t like the music and I wasn’t having a good time. I told myself that I was a cancer. I thought about cancer. George Clinton looked like an alien. He was genuinely hostile and clearly dangerous. A cocktail waitress came by and asked me if I wanted a drink. I thought she was an undercover cop. I told her to leave me the fuck alone. In the ensuing thirty minutes, I gave some serious consideration to things like death and blood and diarrhea and war. Eventually, I ran out of the theater and went on a ferociously contemplative five-hour walk. It was twenty degrees outside. I wasn’t wearing a coat.

  After his military service ended, Alexander Shulgin went back home and studied biochemistry at the University of California at Berkeley, where he received his Ph.D. in the mid-1950s. Not long after graduating, he landed a job at Dow Chemical as a research chemist. There he created Zectran, the world’s first biodegradable insecticide. Zectran generated windfall profits, and Shulgin’s bosses were ecstatic. In consequence, he was given the freedom to study whatever he wanted. His superiors considered him a shining star and left him alone to do his work. They wanted him to tinker around in their laboratories and invent things that would make them large amounts of money.

  “Dow said, ‘Do as you wish,’” Shulgin later remarked. “I did as I wished. I did psychedelics.”

  23.

  Twenty-five minutes after I downed the pill, my stomach started hurting. That was the first official sign that the drug was working. It was a subtle ache, a funny feeling, nothing too serious. Something was happening to me, no two ways about it. But I wasn’t quite sure what.

  From there, I started to notice that I could hear a little bit better than usual. I could pick voices out of crowds with ease. I could hear the wind. I could hear the sounds of music. My vision was improving too. Objects looked solid and defined, colors were more vibrant. I felt warmer. The city seemed friendlier than before, more open, more receptive, and a great deal more mysterious.

  From what I could tell, my new friends seemed to be undergoing similar transformations. The dynamics of the group had shifted. People weren’t talking so much anymore, and if they were, they were talking quietly. Even Tori had gone silent. Everyone was starting to feel something.

  onset n.

  1.) An onslaught; an assault.

  2.) A beginning; a start: the onset of a cold.

  3.) Linguistics: The part of a syllable that precedes the nucleus. In the word nucleus, the onset of the first syllable is(n), the onset of the second syllable is (kl), and the last syllable has no onset.

  The technical name for ecstasy is 3,4-methylenedioxymetham-phetamine, or MDMA for short. It was first patented in 1912 by the German pharmaceutical company Merck and was initially used as nothing more than an intermediary. At the time, nobody thought much of it, and for many decades, it lay dormant in the pages of chemical literature.

  On September 12, 1976, Alexander Shulgin created a new synthesis for MDMA in his home laboratory and soon became the first human being on record to consume it. The initial dose was conservative, measuring approximately 15 milligrams. Shulgin ingested it and waited. There was no noticeable effect. In the coming days, he upped the dosage in carefully controlled increments, documenting everything. At a dose of 81 milligrams, he started to feel something.

  He described the initial experience in his lab journal:

  First awareness at 35 minutes smooth, and it was very nice. Forty-five minutes still developing, but I can easily assimilate it as it comes under excellent control. Fifty minutes getting quite deep, but I am keeping a pace.

  Then the MDMA took hold. Alexander Shulgin experienced what the scientific community often refers to as a “eureka moment.”

  He went on to write:

  I feel absolutely clean inside, and there is nothing but pure euphoria. I have never felt so great or believed this to be possible. The cleanliness, clarity, and marvelous feeling of solid inner strength continued throughout the rest of the day and evening. I am overcome by the profundity of the experience.

  24.

  We arrived at a big tent on the edge of town and went inside. Drums and bass were booming from giant speakers. Colored lights were flashing. The place was filled with people in all manner of costume. A DJ was on stage. I could smell incense. My friends started dancing immediately. They dove right in with zero hesitation. Tori and Caroline walked right into the thick of the mob, held hands, and took turns twirling each other around. Gregg was running around like a maniac, passing out lollipops to total strangers.

  I stayed toward the back of the tent and watched everything. My shoulders moved a little bit. My foot tapped. I was feeling pretty good about things. Under normal circumstances, this wasn’t my kind of scene. I didn’t like electronic music, the rave culture gave me the creeps, and I couldn’t dance for shit. Now, for some reason, the music was agreeing with me. Everything was starting to agree with me. Nothing was uncomfortable. I felt warm, simple, effortless, at ease. The feeling was like a beam of light. It started in my stomach and rose up within me. Without even realizing it, the drug had taken over. It kicked in, full force, and that was it. The transition happened quickly and seamlessly. It was meteoric, and it fooled me entirely. The exaggerated nature of my mental state felt crystalline and true. I never doubted it for a second. Everything was all right, everyone was my friend, life was beautiful, and there was nothing to be afr
aid of. It was as though my spirit had been unlocked. It was magical.

  With this in mind, it wasn’t long before I dropped my last remaining shreds of inhibition and ventured into the thick of the crowd. I was even dancing a little bit, hopping around from one foot to the other, moving my shoulders from side to side. Up ahead I could see Caroline’s purple cowboy hat, bobbing above the crowd. I made my way over to it and found her and Tori, dancing like maniacs. When they saw me, they went wild. They reached out for me and hugged me again. It was as though we were old friends, reunited after years apart.

  “HOW DO YOU FEEL?” said Caroline. She had to scream to be heard.

  “GREAT,” I said. “I FEEL PERFECT!”

  Tori squeezed my hand and squealed. Her palm was warm and sweaty. So was mine. It felt great to touch someone. I twirled her around. Caroline massaged my neck and shoulders. That felt great too.

  “THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR INVITING ME OUT!” I said. “I’M SO GLAD I CAME!”

  The girls hugged me again and told me I was welcome.

  “YOU’RE TWO OF THE NICEST GIRLS I’VE EVER MET!” I said.

  The girls smiled and told me that I was one of the nicest people they had ever met. We hugged again. We were flying.

  “THIS IS THE BEST I HAVE EVER FELT AS A HUMAN BEING ON PLANET EARTH!” I announced.

  The girls laughed and said “ME TOO!”

  We danced.

  25.

  In the late 1970s, Alexander Shulgin’s first wife died of a stroke. He had been married to her for thirty years. The following year, he met a woman named Ann. Ann was divorced and had four children. She was a big fan of peyote.

  Alexander and Ann were married on July 4, 1981, in a small service in Shulgin’s backyard.

  The gentleman who conducted the ceremony was an employee of the United States Drug Enforcement Agency (DEA).

  By the time the mid-1980s rolled around, MDMA was being used in experimental therapy sessions across the country.

  Talk show host Phil Donahue devoted an entire hour to the drug’s medical possibilities in February 1985.

  There were other possibilities for the drug as well. New uses for it had been manifesting across the country, most notably in Dallas, Texas, where word of MDMA had spread like wildfire and an underground market was rapidly developing. Nightclubs in the area were selling the new drug like hotcakes. People were taking MDMA and dancing the night away. They were high as lab rats, bug-eyed and euphoric, and it was all perfectly legal.

  Officials at the DEA later estimated that Dallas residents were consuming an average of 30,000 hits of MDMA per month during the mid-1980s.

  A few enterprising Texans were quick to pounce on MDMA’s inherent profit potential. They realized that it filled a void in the marketplace. And they capitalized.

  One dealer even decided to give MDMA a new nickname, in an effort to make it sell better.

  ecstasy n.

  1.) Intense joy or delight.

  2.) A state of emotion so intense that one is carried beyond rational thought and self-control: an ecstasy of rage.

  3.) The trance, frenzy, or rapture associated with mystic or prophetic exaltation.

  4.) Slang: MDMA.

  Shulgin, it should be pointed out, was never a big fan of the nickname “ecstasy.”

  He always felt the drug should have been called “empathy.”

  26.

  I was high. I was screamingly high. I was miraculously, screamingly high. I was so high that I didn’t even know that I was high. I was dancing like a fool and didn’t even care. I was smiling at strangers, doing karate moves. I rarely smiled at strangers, and I knew nothing about karate. I was jumping around like a moron. People were smiling back at me. Everyone seemed to be in the same condition I was in. A lot of people seemed to have swallowed little white pills. The music was a miracle to me. Sound had never sounded so good. I felt at home in the universe. I felt my affection for humanity growing by leaps and bounds. I felt I understood people. I felt they understood me. I ran into Gregg on the dance floor. He was jumping up and down. His eyes were dilated and his jaw was grinding. I gave him a high five and told him he was my hero. He hugged me and said, “WELCOME TO THE STRATOSPHERE!”

  Time went by. At some point, I felt like having a cigarette. I wanted to go outside and have a cigarette and get some fresh air, and I didn’t want to go alone. I decided I wanted Caroline to come with me. She was my soulmate. She was prettier than I had given her credit for. She looked like Wonder Woman, and she had a heart of gold. There was far more beauty to her than I had initially realized. I went up to her and extended my hand and asked her if she wanted to take a walk with me. She said yes. She turned to Tori and told Tori that we were going to go for a walk. Tori smiled and hugged her, and then she blew me a kiss.

  We went outside. I lit a cigarette. It was the greatest cigarette I’d ever smoked. Caroline produced a bottle of water and a bottle of champagne from her backpack. We each took a sip of water and talked about how great water was. Then Caroline handed me the bottle of champagne. After I finished my cigarette, I popped it open. Champagne shot out onto the desert floor. Passersby cheered. I laughed and took a bow.

  I took Caroline by the hand, and we started walking. I didn’t know where we were going, I just felt like moving. She was right there with me, squeezing my hand the entire way. I took a sip of champagne and handed her the bottle. She took a sip and handed it back to me. It was nice to be out of the dance tent. The weather was acting up, but the air felt good anyway. I had pink earmuffs on. A blue PUMA headband. Caroline’s hand was warm. My jacket was warm too.

  We wound our way around for a while, and then we cut across town and walked out onto the open playa. It felt good to be outside, good to be in open space. Up ahead there was a big fire burning and a few people milling around it. The fire was the size of a large car. We moved to it instinctively. I could hear classical music in the distance. The whole scene seemed like a dream to me. A strange and spectacular dream.

  Caroline and I sat down on the ground in front of the flames and held hands. We talked about the heat of the fire as if it were a great miracle. I took a big drink of champagne, and it went down easy. Caroline put her head on my shoulder. We watched the fire for a while. I thought about things. Everything seemed clear to me. My heart was in my throat.

  And then I started talking.

  “I have to tell you something,” I said.

  Caroline lifted her head and looked directly at me. Her eyes were like a doll’s eyes in the firelight.

  “I want you to know how glad I am that you’re my soul-mate,” I said. “This is one of the all-time best nights of my life. I honestly feel like we’ve known each other for such a long time, and I feel incredibly lucky to know you.”

  “Oh, thank you, Wayne!” she said.

  She reached over and gave me a hug. I kissed her on the cheek, and then she took me by the hands and looked into my eyes.

  “I feel exactly the same way,” she said. “You’re such a sweetheart. I knew it the minute you walked into the café. You have such a good spirit.”

  “You’ve just been so welcoming to me,” I said. “I haven’t felt this way around anyone in so long. I’ve been so guarded for so long, and I didn’t even realize it. It’s not that I don’t like people, it’s not that I’m not nice to them, but I’m always keeping them at arm’s length in one way or another. I never really open up to people completely or feel like I’m able to.”

  “Why?” said Caroline. “You should always open up to people. You’re a great guy. You can always open up to me.”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “I think it’s at least partially because I’ve been through a lot this past year. I lost an ex-girlfriend to suicide, and it’s been pretty tough to deal with at times.”

  “Oh no,” said Caroline. She squeezed my hands.

  “It’s been hard,” I said. “It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to deal with. I wasn’t prepared for it
at all.”

  “How could you be?” said Caroline.

  “And then, to make matters worse,” I said, “when I was at her funeral, I found out that she’d had an abortion while we were dating. It happened a little over three years ago. She never even told me about it.”

  “Oh my God,” said Caroline. She squeezed my hands tightly. Somehow the news didn’t make her uncomfortable. Somehow it drew her closer to me. Somehow I felt all right talking about it. I wasn’t uneasy or afraid. Everything seemed simple and completely natural.

  “I’ve just been struggling to find a way to come to terms with it,” I continued. “I’ve been blaming myself a lot. I’ve spent too much time overanalyzing. I’ve been telling myself that I could have done things differently, that it was my fault in a lot of ways that things turned out how they did. I’ve been telling myself that my actions were harmful, and I’ve been worried that my life is now stained in some kind of irrevocable way. It might not make much sense, but at times I’ve kind of lost my faith in my ability to live. Because she’s gone, and because my kid is gone, I didn’t feel like I had any right to be here.”

  “You can’t blame yourself,” said Caroline. “You can’t give up. It’s not your fault.”

  “I know,” I said. “That’s what I’m realizing. I realize I can’t blame myself. I realize that it’s not my fault. I realize that all of the overanalyzing is pointless. The answers are actually a lot simpler than that. I think that’s a lot of the reason why I feel so good right now. It feels like such a relief. I mean, I see that I didn’t handle things perfectly. It’s not as if I’m absolving myself of everything. I realize that my actions caused her pain. I realize that I could’ve been more responsible. I broke up with her, and I didn’t do the greatest job of it, and it really hurt her.”