The
scene opens on a party. Two groups of young people stand before a bonfire just
starting to die down. I stand within a circle of my coworkers, overhearing a
conversation after conversation about work.
Eventually, the rest of my familiars
went inside or left. The majority of my acquaintances started heading to one of
their cars in a bout of chaos I had a hard time grasping at the time. What I
did understand, however, was that I was not
going to allow myself to be left behind completely alone with strangers so I
raced after them.
I found myself in the backseat with
two other girls. One I worked with and she borderline annoyed me during that
time (Let’s call her Sabrina). The other I met that night, Megan. My womanly
intuition and the fact that I’m not blind told me that she had some sort of
romantic type thing with the driver (or she wished there was, at least). The
actual owner of the car sat in the passenger seat. I have decided to name them
Josh and Drake, respectively. Due to the illegal nature of this post and the
fact that I haven’t consulted them in any way shape or form, I have changed all
their names.
First, the first stop was to Kum N
Go. Walking around the store, I had a feeling that I’ve spent awhile searching
for, that feeling of late night hijinks with people that could have pretended
to be my friends.
Then, we drove around random streets
while Drake prepared the joint. I remember finding the process very
ritualistic. He gutted something that looked like a cigarette dressed like a
cigar. Then, he packed it with the marijuana carefully and rolled it up. He
licked the edge to seal it all together which is kind of gross now that I’m
thinking about it.
I had said earlier that I didn’t want to
participate (I usually have an anti-weed policy for myself) so I was initially
skipped as the joint made its rounds. However, as I watched its progression, I
found myself wanting it. My earlier shots had mostly worn off and I wanted to
smile and laugh and feel included.
So I asked for some and tried my
first hit of weed. My attempt wasn’t very successful. Apparently, smoking
requires more than inhaling it. You’re supposed to like swallow it into your
lungs. I guess to help me, Drake started shotgunning it. That’s where he put
the joint in his mouth and inhaled the smoke to blow into the receiver’s mouth.
The rest of the hits were consumed this way.
The rest of the trip kind of blended
together. One really hit home just before we stopped at another convenience
store so the boys could pee. My throat felt all scratchy, but I had this
general happy feeling that must be what being high is.
