Since no specifics were made on what got you high, I present to you one of, if not the best, story about a high that took so long to get down from…

We had been considering this for some time, and dabbled here and there, trying a few things out for some time. But it never felt like the right time for various reasons. Until that particular year, the summer before my 28th birthday. Some would say I was late to the game whil others felt it was too soon. But there I was in a room with strangers, saying things that I couldn’t piece together. I vaguely recall feeling like I was gonna pass out from getting dizzy. I clearly recall holding on tightly to my partner-in-crime when she ralphed over my shoulder. The lights flashing, buzzing and beeping sounds panning from left to right, in a doppler shift as I tried to get myself together and in control. We were both nervous, sweaty, intense leading up to it… then it happened. The greatest high I have ever experienced… my daughter was born. And I don’t think I have come down from it yet. Heck the high was such a trip we decided to hit it up two other times! ;)

I once missed my couch sitting down.
I was on the wrong floor.
In the wrong house.
In the wrong city.

The panic that ensued on where I thought I had been the last 2 hours was palpable.
Turns out I just had cottonmouth. Water solved that.

After band practice we went to a party at a pretty plush apartment in Chicago. There was a hill of weed on the table to help yourself to. I’m a one hit wonder. I smoked and I had an instant coughing reaction. I threw up in my hands and I was elbowing one of my band mate to get a towel or rag. It was too late. The vomit started dripping through my hands on to her white carpet. I made it to the bathroom and just continued to vomit everywhere. It was at an Exorcist level.

I used to smoke weed in the bathroom in high school. I wouldn’t get caught because I’d go into the underused one farthest from most of the occupied classes. I’d light up a small bowl, take a few puffs and dip out. One day in the middle of hitting my bowl I heard a few footsteps come in so I shouted a “Yo” to see if it was a student or teacher or guard who would reply. The person who replied back the same thing was my guidance counselor. I panicked and threw the bowl into the toilet and tried flushing it down. The toilet must have been clogged up by someone’s massive shit and backed up. All the while my heart was racing and the anxiety was amplifying my high, there was shit and water overflowing all over the ground. I opened the door and I think he knew what went down but he was more worried about getting the janitor to come clean the mess than anything so I ran out and carried on that day as a paranoid freak thinking I would be called down to the office to be asked what happened but luckily never was. I mean I’m sure the janitor found the pipe filled with jeebs right?? More so feces i guess.

Not my story but a good friend who wasn’t as experienced with edibles – we’ll call her Gimby. She hosted a dinner party at her place with her boyfriend, and I was the first to arrive with a buddy who brought edibles in the form of cookies. We each had one immediately upon arrival, and Gimby decides to do the same even though she’s hosting, not a frequent consumer of such products, AND the party hasn’t started yet. I warned against it, but she insisted this would be fine. People arrive, my experience begins and it’s mellow and wonderful – same happens to the friend who brought them. But Gimby insists she’s getting nothing. Tale as old as time.

The party continues and she’s drinking wine and repeatedly lamenting that the cookie did nothing. After we finish dinner, she insists the only move forward is to have a second cookie. I should have objected more – but I wasn’t in a mental state to protest. So she eats a second edible, still while drinking glass after glass of red wine.

Guests are all starting to leave, and finally we are down to the last four people – the same group who kicked things off. I’m now full back down to earth and thinking it’s probably time to go as well, when suddenly I realize Gimby is nowhere to be found. I look down the hall, and there she is – face down on the floor. It all hit at once and Gimby’s world came crashing down.

We got her to bed and she started laughing hysterically – so we started laughing with her. This is fun right?!?! Nope, all of a sudden she’s hysterically crying. Whoops – we leave the room to give her some time with her boyfriend to calm down. While we’re pondering just quietly leaving to give her some space, we hear the crying switch back to laughter – so we go back in the bedroom to laugh again! It’s okay – these things happen! Let’s laugh together! Wrong – intense crying returns. We leave the room again to hide in the hallway. This process repeated a minimum of five times before we finally decided to leave. As I’m walking out the door I hear her in the bedroom exclaim “I’m not a side show, you know!”

We call her “side show” to this day.

I was using mind altering substances with a group of hippies back in college. It was all fun and games until one of them showed that he was more than capable with a firearm; stripping and reassembling in a matter of seconds. Growing up in the south I was no stranger to guns, but hyper eco hippies with guns was new. I pointed this out to the group and was told “sometimes you have to break an egg to make an omelet”….it was time for me to find a bit of sobriety and head out.

I was a late bloomer so I have limited stories. Started smoking after my divorce. I would be home and get really stoned, and in my beautiful fog, stories would come to mind, and magically an entire movie would unfold in my mind. I’d grab my phone and hit record on my audio app, and start dictating the film from start to finish, only to forget the ending about 4 minutes in. My sober brain can’t make sense of the story, but I know full well that it would have won an academy award if I could have told the whole plot. I still have the recordings and try to decipher the whole thing with no luck. Some day I will connect the dots and write the script, sell it to Hollywood, and live the American Dream. Until then, I keep lighting up with joy and looking for the full story.

this one time I was so high I smoked myself sober and it was weird.
this other time, I was just so high. like that girl on the couch from the commercial.

and that’s it, that’s the story.

I traveled to meet up with my buddy who was going to school near a concert we wanted to go to. On one of our free days, we decided to use up some of his stash. The difficult part was since we couldn’t partake in the rental home, we had to wander to somewhere secluded and private.

We wander for hours with no luck, probably putting about 5km, before we finally found a spot on campus in the bushes. After we get rightfully ripped.

Now the hard part was having to walk back to his rental. Cue walking back in giggle fits, but some of the absurdities we saw didn’t help. Of the most odd was someone walking down the street with an inflatable pool float. We were inner city, no where near any water. But to each their own I guess. Another odd sighting was someone doing smoke tricks with bubbles.

All in all, the journey has given us countless laughs.

thanksgiving is big and a few years back my mom discovered edibles. I was hyped that me, my youngest brother and moms can finally get lifted as a family. We all ate dinner, my other brother that doesn’t indulge along with my pops get up and go to another room. As soon as they left my youngest bro grabs a bag of edibles & starts the distribution process. I’m not an edible guy so I just wanted 1, then I see my mom wolf down 2 so I was like fuck it give me 2, and my youngest brother eats 2 as well. What we didn’t know but will find out later is my mom goes back to the bag of edibles AND EATS THE REST OF THE GUMMIES. This is an important fact for later. We proceed to the family room and start watching Blades of Glory on Netflix. About 30 mins into this movie and I am TRASHED, ultra stoned, I lock eyes with my youngest bro and he is feeling just as blasted as I am. again none of us have any idea how much my mom has consumed. Moms starts getting a bit loopy and heads for bed when my dad. Then my mom starts feeling it, hard, they call both my younger brothers into my parents room to assist as I am couch locked. About 20 more minutes go by then I hear my dad say, let’s go to the hospital. I spring into action and make my way into the bedroom. I make it very clear we are not doing going to the hospital. My youngest brother tries to convince my mom to just sleep it off and in her words, “if I fall asleep I will never wake up” I am dying of laughter but she clearly is not having a good time. My dad has the tv on and I end up propping myself next to my mom, opening up her iPad and watched Pakistani dramas for the next 3 hours. My moms eyes were slits and she looked like Dave at the end of 2001 Space Odyssey getting blasted through the infinite void. Finally she starts coming down & apologizes for freaking everyone out. The next day over breakfast my moms reveals that she consumed the whole bag. We laughed about it and this is always a fun story to tell around Thanksgiving table. We also regulate how many edibles moms eat every holiday.