Tales of Growing Up: The Wacky Tobacky Trials and Why I Can Never Smoke Even When Legal

Once upon a time I was a teenager. And like all teenagers I wanted to show I was bad, tough, all the retardedness of being a teen. So at 13 I started smoking cigarettes. Less than a year later my cousin was offering me marijuana while I stayed the summer in the hood.

Since I was in full on rebellion stage, I was super terrified, but willing to do stupid things. So we walked the hood to meet up with a friend who sold weed. As far as I remember, my tryout was free. And the guy was cute (my eyes were really bad then, or time has not been kind to the hood’s local weedman). And I wanted to impress my cousin. Exact opposite happens.

Right in some random neighborhood weeddude lights up. I’m as jittery as a guy about to see his first boobs at a strip club. We’re doing this in public?! Out on the street?! Where anyone could see us?! Egads!

I am not nerdy enough, nor was I that nerdy then to say Egads!

Embellishment. Ahem. To continue…

Egads! I cried in my head, as the weeddude to a puff puff and passed to my cousin. And she puffed and puffed and Wow she has great lung control.

And then its my turn. I’m sweating like a hooker in church, and its laughable but I’m actually praying right then and there that inhaling this mess doesn’t randomly kill me or make me crazy for LIFE.

I inhale. And try to hold it in as I was told to do, but this crap burns like tear gas that I’m less than 10 years away from experiencing when I join the military. Instead of exhaling all smoothly I hack it all out, and Oh My Sweet Baby Jesus lying in the manger with swaddling clothes this mess burns like the fires of Hell!!!

I swear I turned into a cartoon at that moment because I felt the burn and fire pouring from my ears! And while weeddude and the cuz are roaring laughter I feel my ear drums dying and my throat crying. I call to my cousin to ask the obvious. “It burns cuz! Why does it burn?!” Which sends her into another roll of laugh at my newbie pain.

I barely get a buzz that time, and of course, I have to redeem myself. Weeks later, back visiting, I try again, this time at weeddude’s house. I’ve learned my lesson and fight my throat not to cough. And I get totally weird and wrong. The first thing that starts to bother me is that my eyesight and started to go in and out of focus like a drunk video camera. The second is that I’m in one room sitting, but feel like I’m about to tip over and fall out the window… in the next room. And third, my natural paranoia went to “Warning Will Robinson” levels and I was sure everyone could read my thoughts and that the police were on their way from reading my thoughts.

Not to mention, weeddude’s eyes turned into demon eyes.

This. This is what I saw.

And it wasn’t just the one time. Each time I tried, things got weirder and weirder until I had to stop myself and ask “Is this really fun, or giving you nightmares and destroying your mental stability more than your normal crazy?” When cows begin to nod their head to the music that is only playing in your head. When green buildings begin to look like Emerald City, when you start to not know the difference between reality and what the drug is telling you is real… Well, you’ve entered the real life version of the movie “A Scanner Darkly” or you just have a bad reaction to the wacky tobacky.

I stopped. And learned later through my mother that my father had the same reactions. That he lost a whole weekend not knowing who he was and just wandered, making snow angels where there was no snow.

I believe marijuana should be legalized. I know many people with my medical condition (hidradenitus suppurative, see my previous post: http://dimensionthe5th.com/2012/12/06/god-is-an-alien-and-put-alien-babies-under-my-skin-rare-medical-condition-woes/) that are so severe pain that it’s all they can take. But for me, oh no. No thank you. Give me some percocet or something NORMAL for me.

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