I had many opportunities after that, and I think I took most all of them. Over the next couple months I had smoked a bowl, a few blunts, and a makeshift gravity bong ( or something of the sort ). But.. despite my persistence and my friend’s willingness to let me smoke all their marijuana, I never got high. I’d take hits and feel completely normal in every way. I was seriously beginning to think that marijuana was just something people did to be “cool”, because I’d been dedicated for a while now and was seeing no results.
But, I have higher opinions of my friends than that, and I’d heard before that many people don’t get high their first time, or sometimes even their second or third. Well, it was something like my fifth time and still nothing was happening, and I didn’t just want to say “It isn’t for me.”, because I really didn’t even know yet what it was. With all motivation lost, I gave up. However, a magical thing later happened.
It was the first night of Thanksgiving break at our school. I was in Boston with the others who were staying in the dorms over break, and everyone was sitting around in my room playing Halo.
It was a Thursday and everyone else in the school was at home, so there was literally nothing to do… Well, until my friend StonedMotherfucker rolled a blunt and promised me that I’d get high off of it. I was not so sure, but nevertheless, I ‘donned my boots and coat and stepped out into the quiet, frosty November night.
We sat on an old bench in the park across the street. StonedMotherfucker lit the blunt, took a couple hits, and passed it to me. By this point, though I’d never gotten high, I knew how to smoke, how to inhale, how to do everything right. I took a hit. I didn’t feel anything. I took another. Still nothing.
I passed the blunt back to StonedMotherfucker. It takes a while to set in, so he was still feeling normal, too. He took two hits and passed it to back me. I took a hit. StonedMotherfucker and I were having a conversation about how nice it was outside, and during the downtime between my first and second hit, I started to feel something.
It wasn’t much. I wasn’t even sure yet if it was real or placebo. I took another hit and passed the blunt back to him. We conversed some more and took in the wintery Boston atmosphere, and that’s when I noticed that something real was happening. Something that had never happened before.
It was working.
I was sitting there staring at the concrete between my feet.
“StonedMotherfucker, I’m fucking high.”
He laughed a little and replied, “Me too, man.”
We passed the blunt between ourselves a few more times. With each hit, I felt considerably more comfortable with this new feeling and considerably higher than I had before. I did not hallucinate, nor did I trip. I did not hear voices, and my mind stayed as clear as it has ever been. The bench was still brown and the snow was still the same white I’d always known. But, somehow in a way I could not explain, it was all different.
The colors seemed a little more vibrant, and the bench seemed just a little more comfortable. The air was refreshing to breathe and soothing on my cool face. It was only a slight change, but it was big enough to be unmistakable. I was definitely high.
We each took a few more hits. I passed it back to StonedMotherfucker, but he declined and said he was already high enough, so I chucked it. We sat on the bench talking for a few more minutes and then decided to get back inside.
I stood up from the bench and that’s when it hit me like a freight train. It was as if the dam keeping THC from the cannibinoid receptors in my brain had finally shattered into tiny pieces and let loose the river of reefer within. Everything was still the same as it had been moments before, but there was something different about it. Everything had.. personality.
The streetlights shone with an invitingly warm, yellow glow, and the snow on the sidewalks sparkled with a magic I felt I hadn’t perceived since childhood. The entire scene, held up by the quiet and calming hum of the city and topped off by the twinkling stars above, seemed peaceful and calm. I felt like an adult who had learned to see my world through the eyes of an awestruck and wonder-filled small child.
We turned back to the dorms and started walking in tranquil, meditative silence. I tried to open the door but realized I’d forgotten my college ID. I turned to StonedMotherfucker and, realizing the situation at hand, we both burst into laughter.
It was a laughter I’ve not experienced often. I could barely stand. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I held myself in a vain attempt to stifle the eruption within. StonedMotherfucker was having similar problems and was squatting on the concrete nearby. The security guard looked menacingly up at us from his Sudoku, but our laughter knew no limits and continued obnoxiously on. Realizing we couldn’t stand there at the door of our dormitory laughing like maniacs, we walked back to the sidewalk to reassess the situation.
While we paced and pondered, I realized something… and that was that I could no longer make eye contact with StonedMotherfucker. Whenever said contact occured, all motor control I had would instantly be put towards stopping the hysterical, hyena-like cackling that would almost inevitably explode from both of our mouths.
“StonedMotherfucker!” I said, my back to him and my eyes fixed intently on a streetlight ahead of me.
“What, Narrator? …Why is your back to me?” He replied. I could almost feel him grinning like a motherfucker.
“I’m standing this way…” I said between deep breaths and stifled laughs, “…because if I turn around… I’ll start laughing again.”
At that point, we both burst into laughter again.
“Narrator, what are we gonna do!?”
“Fuck man, I don’t know. I can’t deal with that security guard right now.”
I didn’t realize at that point that while under the influence of marijuana you can usually snap back when needed. Being so far off the deep end, though, and not yet understanding how the drug worked, I was too scared to take chances.
After much internal struggle, I formulated a ( halfbaked? ) plan. I walked into the dorm, pulled out my wallet, and acted like I had just realized that my ID was missing. I got out my cellphone, called StonedMotherfucker, and said something along the lines of “Yeah man, I left my ID in my room.. can you bring it to me? Yeah, it’s sitting on the Halo case.. wait, the security guard says I can just go on in. Cool. I’ll see you in a second.”
So, I thanked him like I would a thank a friend and went to up my room, baked as a motherfucker.
The rest of the night consisted of me eating seemingly gourmet food, raping ass at Halo, listening to music ( intensely ), and generally having a good time with my friends.
Since then, I’ve continued to smoke pot on a regular basis. I am the same person I was before. My mind is just as clear as it was before I started smoking pot. My goals are just as large, and my drive to reach them is just as strong. The negative stereotypes and political baggage that plague marijuana have not haunted me, and until they do, I’ll continue to smoke this medicinal herb ( in healthy moderation ) until I die.
I just hope there’s no one out there who’s on the fence about cannabis and ultimately decides to pass it up based on the grossly misrepresented image it has been given by our government and by mass media. Trust me, it’s not what you think it is.
Sincerely,
