I remember dealing with the Bureau of Land Management Police (Feds) at Burning Man in 2013. The night of the Burn, my 3 friends and I were on a hefty dose of LSD, and sat down to smoke a joint in what turned out to be the dumbest spot on the playa. Buddy then pulls out a small bag of ketamine to sniff, and all of a sudden stops and looks off into the darkness, mutters something, and shoves it into the sand. The next second we were surrounded by headlights from their trucks, and they got out and stood us all up.

They knew we at least had more weed, and were insisting on searching our bags. For some reason they focused on me, and I was refusing giving up my 4th Amendment rights. But they kept hounding me, and finally just said, if you let us search your bag in particular, we won't take it any further and get warrants for all of you (standard cop line, I know. But this was a bit different than a regular traffic stop). So I sorta martyred myself for the group, they found my weed and pipe (and none of the harder stuff in the other bags) and said because I was ultimately cooperative they wouldn't arrest or fine me, and just seize my drugs. But that they still needed my information for their report.

Happy to be out of the worst of it, I told them my name, and began giving my address. But once I said my city, the realization that it was probably best to not fully identify myself (didn't have wallet or ID on me) struck me, and I started rambling about not remembering my address.

"Well, how long have you lived in Santa Cruz?"

"Oh I've lived there my whole life!"

"And you can't remember your address?"

"Ehhh, not right now, unfortunately"

And they all started laughing, and said something to the effect of "... and they say marijuana doesn't effect the memory!" And then they left. Little did they know how much acid we had all taken... I was very proud to have handled that situation calmly. I think if I hadn't been so experienced with psychedelics, I might have lost my shit.