Over at Grits for Breakfast, Scott Henson’s talking about a bill banning the use of salvia divinorum by Texans 18 and under.
Henson had never heard of the drug before, but HouStoned sure has, as you can see in this article by Margaret Downing.
Intense, somewhat intense, rush that didn't last long but a rush all the same -- our research scientists reached consensus that they felt something. Some got it right away; others said they needed three or four hits before anything kicked in. Several also got an almost instantaneous mild headache that would nag them for hours.
One volunteer said she felt glued to her chair; she couldn't move. Several others said they felt leaden, suddenly uncoordinated. Legs and arms didn't work right. Lethargy reigned. The presence of our "watchdog baby-sitters" (there in case something went wrong) seemed superfluous, a paranoid level of overprotectiveness. No one was going to dance around and fall down. No one wanted to get up. Still, someone might catch the couches on fire, and since we were sitting on these couches and couldn't seem to get up, that could be trouble.
Giggles. More giggles. A wave of giggles around the room as we pondered the immensity of this. Despite all the literature stressing that salvia was "not a party drug" and was "not marijuana," the biggest general effect was to give us a massive case of the giggles. Salvia was supposed to make people withdraw into their own rooms, into their own heads, with lights down and no intrusions. Introspection time. Talking would divert people from seeing visions.