I swear I’ve never smoked marijuana a day in my life nor have I ever abused any other drug for that matter…well, with the exception of a mild addiction to Vicks Nyquil a few years back. I have, however, had occasion to get high under the most extenuating circumstances! For example, just the other day I was teaching my students the intricacies of the while…do, do, and for loops in C++ when I was suddenly engulfed in a wave of euphoria and couldn’t help but giggle in-between sentences. My students, who are generally used to my eccentric behavior, didn’t think much of it and laughed along with me. It turns out that I was writing on a whiteboard and utilizing four different markers at the same time, since I like to be as visual as possible with my explanations. The fume from said markers caused me to get a tad bit high, hence the loopy behavior I was experiencing.
Another time I had the flu and decided to take some Nyquil and go to bed. Unfortunately, a friend called me up and invited me to go out drinking with him, right after I had taken the medication. When I refused his invitation on the basis of my illness, he brought the party to my doorstep, showing up with Chinese food and a bottle of red wine he’d brought back from his vacation in France. Of course, I couldn’t refuse the free French wine and decided to ignore the warning labels on the Nyquil box which clearly stated that one should not mix alcohol with the medicine. Aside from suffering violent headaches and amazing hallucinations, I didn’t wake up for nearly two days. On the plus side, my flu was completely dried up and I was about 6 pounds lighter!
How could I forget the time I decided to pick up smoking? I was at a point in life where everything just felt wrong (I forget what teenage crisis I was going through) and I decided that I needed to drown my sorrows with nicotine. So, I stopped at a little shop on Barbican Road and bought myself two cigarettes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough money for a lighter or a pack of matches, and the shopkeeper didn’t want to give me a light. Of course, at this time, the closest I’d ever come to smoking a cigarette was when I was about 8 or 9 and I stole a lit one from my mother (under the pretext that I would toss it in the toilet, since I wanted her to quit). I actually intended to smoke it myself just to see if I could make those cool circles and other objects like they did in the cartoons (damn you Bugs Bunny!). The end result was me, with lungs full of nicotine, passing out on the bathroom floor and awakening to find a cigarette burn in the bathroom rug and my mother standing over me with a stern expression on her face. Well, I decided that I’d ask someone for a light on the way home; however, the individuals on Widcombe Road in the late night hours aren’t necessarily the friendliest Jamaicans out there. So, I put my unlit cigarette in my mouth and chewed it as I walked home. Suddenly, I became very dizzy and sweaty. Apparently, I’d managed to chew too far down into the cigarette and was experiencing the full effect of raw nicotine on the nervous system. Forget about that one now, no smoking for me!
Now my first and last experience with weed came about when I went to Community College and used to hang out with a Rastafarian fellow by the name of Rock. Now Rock was what one would call a true “Herbalist” and you could smell the weed on him even if he wasn’t smoking. Unfortunately, his weed smell began to rub off on me and my family thought I had become an addict…the fact that I was studying so hard at the libraries until my eyes got red and the bedraggled manner (i.e. grunge) in which I carried myself didn’t help matters much either. One day, Rock and I decided to study together for a programming exam…I believe it was COBOL programming. Now for those of you who know programming languages, you know that COBOL is one of the worst languages to learn…period. Well, Rock was a bit frustrated with the notes and decided to burn a little herb to make things seem clearer. Well, he didn’t ask me if it bothered me, he just lit it up and continued studying. I, on the other hand, sat around enjoying the second-hand fumes and feeling really irie. Finally, exam time came, and I walked, or rather glided, into the examination room on a cloud of 1’s and 0’s. The exam was handed out and I was feeling really mellow by that time. I just wrote and wrote and wrote for the entire three-hour examination period and, at the end of it all, I had no clue about a damn thing I had written. A couple weeks passed, exam results came back, and guess who got the highest score? Me, of course! Not only was the score the highest for the class, it was the highest the teacher had ever seen for any COBOL course she’d ever taught! Hmmm, I wonder if this is why us Jamaicans oftentimes refer to weed as “High Grade”?
Another time I had the flu and decided to take some Nyquil and go to bed. Unfortunately, a friend called me up and invited me to go out drinking with him, right after I had taken the medication. When I refused his invitation on the basis of my illness, he brought the party to my doorstep, showing up with Chinese food and a bottle of red wine he’d brought back from his vacation in France. Of course, I couldn’t refuse the free French wine and decided to ignore the warning labels on the Nyquil box which clearly stated that one should not mix alcohol with the medicine. Aside from suffering violent headaches and amazing hallucinations, I didn’t wake up for nearly two days. On the plus side, my flu was completely dried up and I was about 6 pounds lighter!
How could I forget the time I decided to pick up smoking? I was at a point in life where everything just felt wrong (I forget what teenage crisis I was going through) and I decided that I needed to drown my sorrows with nicotine. So, I stopped at a little shop on Barbican Road and bought myself two cigarettes. Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough money for a lighter or a pack of matches, and the shopkeeper didn’t want to give me a light. Of course, at this time, the closest I’d ever come to smoking a cigarette was when I was about 8 or 9 and I stole a lit one from my mother (under the pretext that I would toss it in the toilet, since I wanted her to quit). I actually intended to smoke it myself just to see if I could make those cool circles and other objects like they did in the cartoons (damn you Bugs Bunny!). The end result was me, with lungs full of nicotine, passing out on the bathroom floor and awakening to find a cigarette burn in the bathroom rug and my mother standing over me with a stern expression on her face. Well, I decided that I’d ask someone for a light on the way home; however, the individuals on Widcombe Road in the late night hours aren’t necessarily the friendliest Jamaicans out there. So, I put my unlit cigarette in my mouth and chewed it as I walked home. Suddenly, I became very dizzy and sweaty. Apparently, I’d managed to chew too far down into the cigarette and was experiencing the full effect of raw nicotine on the nervous system. Forget about that one now, no smoking for me!
Now my first and last experience with weed came about when I went to Community College and used to hang out with a Rastafarian fellow by the name of Rock. Now Rock was what one would call a true “Herbalist” and you could smell the weed on him even if he wasn’t smoking. Unfortunately, his weed smell began to rub off on me and my family thought I had become an addict…the fact that I was studying so hard at the libraries until my eyes got red and the bedraggled manner (i.e. grunge) in which I carried myself didn’t help matters much either. One day, Rock and I decided to study together for a programming exam…I believe it was COBOL programming. Now for those of you who know programming languages, you know that COBOL is one of the worst languages to learn…period. Well, Rock was a bit frustrated with the notes and decided to burn a little herb to make things seem clearer. Well, he didn’t ask me if it bothered me, he just lit it up and continued studying. I, on the other hand, sat around enjoying the second-hand fumes and feeling really irie. Finally, exam time came, and I walked, or rather glided, into the examination room on a cloud of 1’s and 0’s. The exam was handed out and I was feeling really mellow by that time. I just wrote and wrote and wrote for the entire three-hour examination period and, at the end of it all, I had no clue about a damn thing I had written. A couple weeks passed, exam results came back, and guess who got the highest score? Me, of course! Not only was the score the highest for the class, it was the highest the teacher had ever seen for any COBOL course she’d ever taught! Hmmm, I wonder if this is why us Jamaicans oftentimes refer to weed as “High Grade”?
Comments
Went to a session and saw everyone else smoking cigarettes when I was 14. I decided I'd try and I went through about a pack of cigarettes, thinking I was all cool, when my friends finally pointed out that I was just puffing and not really inhaling anything. I have a few other stories, perhaps I'll share them sometime.
And that is why my eyes are turning red,
It's going thru mi head,..."
You would be surpised the simple little things that can perk you up, narkers are definately one. I get high everytime I meet with my study group to pracice on the whiteboard!
Yup nuff people used to bun weed when I was in dorm!
weed didn't catch on too much around my ends too many distractions
I have burned a bit of weed... not too much though. I have good reason not to deal with it, I guess.
Whatever...