On Smoking Pot

I started smoking pot when I was sixteen. I worked at a lawn mower shop and my mentor first turned me on to it. He actually sold me my first two ounces for twenty dollars (the good old days).

I went out riding around with some friends and they rolled joints and we smoked them. I didn’t get high the first few times I smoked. They did and got really wasted on the dope I had.

I went to visit a friend of mine over Christmas, and brought my pot along. He had to go to the dentist one day and I went along. We smoked a J of the stuff I had, and man the first time I felt like I was floating along in the car.

When we got to the dentist office, we had a case of the laughs and I had to go outside to calm down. When I returned, he had been called in.

After it was over, he said that they didn’t even have to vacuum out his mouth because of the cotton-mouth syndrome.

We also learned of a new concept called the Raving Munchies. It was a term unbeknownst to us until then.

We could have just eaten lunch, smoked a J, and gone to a burger joint and polished off a burger, fries, and large Coke.

He had been smoking longer than I and agreed that my dope was indeed good stuff.

After my return, I learned a lot about the dope season. Summertime was the hardest time to find dope, and the term was ‘dry’.

At the time I started, pounds could be purchase for $40, then later $50.

I had an opportunity to buy some of the legendary Panama Red, and did so. The seller however, would not give me a discount as I bought three ounces and paid $30 for the three. It was the best dope I ever had.

It’s been a long time since I have been involved now with pot but pounds now go for hundreds of dollars.

Always had to buy rolling papers. It took me while to learn how but I did so. Meanwhile, I bought a Rizla roller that worked very well. I ended up folding up the ends into a little boat so the dope would not fall out.

Of course, one has to clean the dope first by removing the seeds and stems. It is tedious work but one is always well rewarded for doing so. Seeds can explode and cause the coal to fall off. Seeds can fall out and burn holes in ones’ shirt (I had plenty of those ruined shirt. it is a sure sign of a doper when you see holes burned in the front of his shirt chest high).

Stems too, make it difficult as they don’t burn like the leaves and when ash is knocked off, the stem can cause the coal to fall out.

We ended up using a pipe that held a joint. I was several inches long and made of glass. It had a hole in both ends, and one held a finger over the end while drawing a hit. Then removing the finger from the end would allow all the smoke to be inhaled.

Bongs and water pipes are popular, but not as portable as the good ol’ J.

I made several batches of magic brownies back in the day. Brownies are a guaranteed high, and it takes longer to kick in as digestion must occur in order for the body to absorb the THC. Brownies tended to constipate me, I cannot speak for others. The dope must be exceptionally clean as well. I think I used a half ounce per batch.

My wife at the time was an addict, and we went through a pound like nothing. I figured out the guy I worked with was a doper too, and I asked him once “do you ever get high before coming to work?”

His answer “every day!”

We became great pot smoking buddies and I always brought at least one joint to work after that. We spent a lot of time on the road, so had ample opportunity to get high.

It was a struggle as I was only getting paid $2.25 an hour, and supported a lazy wife with rent, electric, food, and pot.

I would sneak off campus for lunch in high school with friends and we’d always get high. I had study hall immediately after lunch and usually would nap before English sixth period.

We had a band trip when we were seniors to Dallas. I told my folks I was staying at a friend’s, and he told his folks we was staying at my place giving us the opportunity to stay up all  night…and we did…and we smoked several joints and ended up making several stops at the Sambo’s restaurant which was open 24 hours…more pancakes and coffee. We were at Sambo’s for breakfast as the sun rose. My friend pulled out a foil pouch…with magic brownies. Another laughing attack as we consumed them.

Went to school and got on the buses. I slept all the way to Houston.

Another buddy loaned me his portable 8-track; battery operated. By the time we got to Houston, the batteries were so weak that it wouldn’t switch tracks. The buses stopped at a cafeteria in Houston and I snuck off to the drug store to buy batteries. 8 D batteries…man those things cost a fortune. We jammed the whole trip on REO Speedwagon (the first album), Sugarloaf, and Led Zeppelin.

Saturday night was my night. Having a job and paying my own way, my parents said little about my going out and staying out late on Saturdays.

It was nice having a job to buy gas and pay for pot and cigarettes. I started smoking cigarettes when I began smoking pot to cover the pot odor. I figured I could get away with smoking cigarettes.

For a while, I kept my dope stashed by a tree on the canal bank. It got to be a hassle to have to run over there, stop, roll joints and re-stash it, then leave. Stopping on the canal bank day or night was very visible too so began carrying my pot with me.

Buying rolling papers was a subtle way if raising one’s hand saying “I’m a pothead!” One could always go the local head shop where no one cared but would always try to sell you a bong, a pipe, roach clip, water pipe or other means of smoking.

The head shop always smelled of delicious types of incense. I bought and incense burner with the little cones of incense. It seemed a little expensive. It was a heavy ceramic orange owl. One removed the owl head and lit an incense cone placing it on the base, then replacing the head. The smoke would trail out through the eyes. It got very hot and it broke one day. It got so hot that leaving it on the coffee table would leave a burn mark on the table. I think I picked it up once to move it when it was lit, and I dropped it also breaking it.

My parents bought me a fluorescent black light one Christmas and I hung it in my room. I had a couple of black light posters too. Far out.

I put black light bulbs in the ceiling light in my brother’s and my room and when my folks would turn on the light to wake us up (I hated that) the black lights came on which did not wake us up at all. heh The incandescent bulbs did not make things glow like the other fluorescent did. I still have that one with the original bulb.

Ahh munchies. Burgers and fries were hard to beat. Pizza and beer also very good. Dairy Queen was all about decisions as there were so many choices. Any ice cream was good as were most candy bars. Chips and dips were also popular.

Of course, there is always the constant worry of getting busted. Cops were our enemies and we referred to them as “pigs”.

Driving around smoking pot certainly presents a certain amount of risk, and we were always on the lookout for cops.

Smoking pot can always make one paranoid which is a bad thing as it can be unreal and it can spread. The thought of getting busted is scary itself without seeing flashing lights in one’s rear-view mirror.

An alert driver can spot sign that one is about to get pulled over giving one time to stay calm and get rid of any live joints that may be in the car. At times, it may be necessary to toss out the baggie and any paraphernalia as well.

I had a burned out headlight and while cruising one night with John and Paul, an oncoming State Trooper passed by and turned around. We had just finished a joint but I threw out the baggie of dope. John was sporting a homemade water pipe that he tossed out the other side into the ditch.

Sure enough, the Trooper pulled me over and gave me a warning about the headlight. I had it fixed the next day. They didn’t even search the car.

Another time I had just purchased two ounces of dope (remember my first time?). When I pulled out of the driveway from my friends rented garage, a cop pulled me over immediately saying that I did not have my turn indicator on when I exited the parking lot. I thought that was chickenshit but kept my mouth shut.

The other cop searched the car but found nothing as I had the dope in my boot. They had no probable cause.

My friend pulled up too and they quizzed him too.

Close call, good thing I was not stoned at the time.

Another time I was taking Paul and Mike back to the bowling alley cruising down sixteenth street. I lit a cigarette and dropped it into my lap causing me to search for the smoke and I drove over a curb into someone’s yard then back into the street. Found the smoke, back to normal.

I dropped them off at the bowling alley and went back the same route to home. I passed by a cop close to where I had bumped into the yard. He was talking with some guy in another yard. I slowed down. The cop came after me and pulled me over.

The cop said that the guy he was talking to had a man wearing only a bath towel ring his doorbell. He chased the man away. The cop asked me to join him at the guys house.

I did so and the guy said “that’s not him but he drove up into someone’s yard after he passed by here.”

In my defence I calmly stated “I dropped a lit cigarette in my lap and was trying to get it before I got burned and yes, I jumped the curb and ran into that guys yard” I pointed at it on the next block.

The cop asked if there was anyone with me in the car. I said yes and he asked who they were and where they are now and I said I dropped them off at the bowling alley and the cop asked me to take him to talk to them.

The guys were certainly surprised when I showed up telling them a cop was outside wanting to interrogate them. “Just tell the truth” I told them.

They had a brief interrogation and the cop let them go and  asked me if I had seen anyone else in the area of the mystery naked man.

“No” I said “but you might check on the caller. I know that guy by reputation and he’s been labeled a looney tune.”
The cop chuckled and replied “yes, I’m starting to get the picture. You can go. Thanks for your cooperation.”

As high as I was before, I was now totally straight.

I rarely went to my lawn mower repair job stoned…to easy to  make mistakes and the boss was retired Air Force and it was his way or the highway.

Listening to music while stone is a whole other facet to the world of pot smoking. You either love it or  you hate it.

I ended up hooked on hard rock and it stuck for many years before I opened my mind to other types, and decided I liked it all.

Depending on who you’re with, one can get very philosophical while stoned, then realized when one is straight, it was all bullshit.

You will forget what you were saying in the middle of a sentence.

You will have laughing attacks that are a near death experience.

You will get hungry, even if you have eaten. Any food will do; especially greasy burgers, fries, beer, candy bars, soft drinks…it’s all good.

You will get the cotton-mouth in which your mouth gets very dry.

Smoking cigarettes is a joy unbounded after a J.

One gets very philosophical when high, only to realize when you’re straight again, it was all bullshit.

I have been unsuccessful at growing pot. A buddy of mine grew a plant and it was over six feet high, but someone stole it.

Sex and pot smoking? It certainly is was easier to get a girl in the sack when she was stoned and giggly. I can’t say it enhances the feeling.

I have certainly been really wasted on smoking dope, and can usually come down quickly as the situation presents itself; especially getting quizzed by parents or cops. Smoking pot never affected my driving except for little things like forgetting to turn on my headlights, forgetting the stoplight had turned green, etc.

Tricky word games can be fun when stoned, like Count Backyards From 100 Using Only Prime Numbers And Saying Captain Puff Puff after your number. That’s a good one.

Risk is a great board game while smoking and it can last for hours. Playing card games like poker, mescan sweat, guts, and black jack can be fun and rewarding.

We used to watch television with the sound off, and listen to music. Different but cool.

Sometimes, we do stupid shit too. I visited a friend in Oklahoma one Christmas, and a bunch of us went riding around in the country, smoking joints. It was cold and misting rain and they stopped at one of the crude oil pumps we used to call a “goose”. It was operating and not fenced so I climbed up, walked out onto the moving goose-neck and rode it for a few minutes. The rest of them called me “crazy Texan” and “dumb sombitch”.

I emerged unharmed.

I had a neighbor after I got married in the apartment complex that treated us with hashish from time to time. He rarely smoked pot unless it was really good stuff.

One day his cousin called us and asked us to go into his apartment and retrieve a large suitcase left on the bed.

We did so to find it contained several pounds of pot; twenty or so.

We took it with us and went to another friend’s for safekeeping until the cousin contacted us again. We took some samples; it was excellent.

The cousin called us and wanted us to give him a ride up past the checkpoint in Falfurrias Texas, where he would meet the smuggler now with the suitcase, and go further north.

Our neighbor, as it turned out was taking out the trash early that morning and got hauled off by federal agents. The took other suitcases of pot he had in the apartment, but somehow missed the one suitcase.

He was out on bail shortly after, and I know not what happened after that.

My friend John got busted smuggling 5 lbs through the checkpoint. He drove and old Dodge Dart and put a bicycle in the trunk with the lid tied down. The suitcase containing the dope was on the back seat.

It didn’t fool the Border Patrol guys at all.

He lost his scholarship to A&I university and got five years probation.

Now retired from 3M, he and his wife are enjoying their retirement.

I had a connection where I worked that would give me dope from time to time. It always made my wife nervous as she is a teacher and really did not want pot in the house. The last joint I had, I flushed it. Forty+ years of smoking dope, down the tubes.

I guess it was the right thing to do. As I got older, it seemed I got more paranoid when I got high, and was not as much fun. It’s always more fun when others smoke with you than when you smoke alone.









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