Panic-stricken, the foursome left the party and decided to head somewhere safe and relaxing: a London nightclub. They didn't make it past the elevator before they started screaming about an imaginary fire. After the nightmare-vision stage finished up, the gang settled down into a blissful peace. As Harrison described it, "I had such an overwhelming feeling of well-being, that there was a God, and I could see him in every blade of grass. It was like gaining hundreds of years of experience in 12 hours." Meanwhile, Lennon observed that "George's house seemed to be just like a big submarine." He didn't mention the color, but you can take a guess.
After the LSD wore off, George and John decided that Paul and Ringo had to get in on the act, not only because they wanted to see Ringo shit himself in terror as a train sporting a human face bore down on him (an experience he would later immortalize in his work on Thomas The Tank Engine), but also because they didn't think they could relate to those two anymore, the narc-y plebs. The band eventually downed some gear together and went on to make musical history, as well as give everyone false expectations about how productive you can be while stoned.