In 2001, I may or may not have done my first bump of ketamine. We called it “kitty” back then. Since 2003, I have no idea what they call it. Ketamine, an animal tranquilizer, when taken by humans in just the right amount, made a night at The Club just memorable enough.
Whatever happened of note, we accepted, could be recounted as necessary by the people whose bumps were less potent. Generally, kitty purred in the shadow of what we called “X.” The combination of these two, ecstasy and anesthesia, made for an evening in which reality could be cloaked behind alternate states, the 10th Amendment to the Constitution notwithstanding.