Even though Jackie and I passed Cannabis College, we should have had our diplomas revoked. After arriving at the Dampkring coffee shop, one thing became very apparent: We didn’t know what the heck we were doing.
After convincing Jackie to go buy the stuff at the counter (it wasn’t that I was intimidated, I just had to, uh, save our seats. Yeah, that’s it…), we had to light the darn things.
First, I couldn’t get the lighter to work. I knew how it worked, I just couldn’t make it work. That’s what a novice I am. I had to have Jackie light my joint for me. Second, I forgot to inhale on my first puff. I sucked but I didn’t inhale. (That statement fits in more contexts than it should.)
Finally, after 20-something years of curiosity, I finally inhaled my first puff of marijuana. It was bitter and earthy and it made me feel like I was breathing humid summer air; my lungs felt warm and congested like the onset of a cold. The taste was like when you go to the supermarket and you can practically taste the smell of the herbs hanging in the air — except this was more pungent and fiery.
The experience was everything I thought it would be. Music sounded louder and better. I was light headed. My reaction time was about five minutes too slow. Things that are never funny were suddenly funny. We talked about things that should never be talked about in a normal conversation — like male mermaids.
And we really enjoyed watching a woman engage in a staring contest with the Dampkring’s resident cat. Neither of them blinked for at least 5 minutes. Their eyes locked in an intense stare. But it wasn’t a competition. It was like they were talking to each other… telepathically… like the understood each other on a cosmic level and…
This is what the cat's vision must be like.
Sorry, it was like I was there, man. Anyway, weed wasn’t as glamorous as those expressionless, red-eyed stoners flopped on the couch at parties made it seem. But I’m glad I tried it. Even more so because I tried it on a day when we didn’t have much planned — there was no way I’d be able to comprehend what was going on.
Besides, after our visit to the coffee shop, all we had on our minds was food. So we went to a waffle stand AND a pastry stand, and stacked up on sweets like we were preparing for a natural disaster. I don’t remember eating it, but it must have been good because it was gone in a few bites.
You never know where you'll wind up after smoking a few joints. Perhaps a giant clog.
I’ll never forget waking up in the middle of the night to see Jackie licking chocolate residue off of a waffle tray, perhaps hoping the waffle would somehow magically regenerate.
