Wolsamnoraa's Blog

Weed will cure what? Um, what?

Recently, there has been an influx of marijuana clinics and advertisements popping up around town.  They make it seem like you could waltz in and buy a pack of marijuana cigarettes, no problem.  You might not even need to be sick.  To be honest, I’m curious (and sick?) but I haven’t smoked pot since my first pubes surfaced from my armpits nearly ten years ago.  After this embarrassing incident, I don’t know if I could smoke again.

It all went down like this…Some friends and I were going to attend the 93.3 FM’s summer music concert series, the Big Gig or Big Adventure or something like that.  I remember 311 was there and that’s why I was excited.  From my friend’s accounts of that day, Incubus, The Long Beach Dub All Stars and (for the sake of exaggeration) David Bowie were performing, too.  (No surprise, I didn’t remember any of that because I was so stoned)

In preparation for the big event, we took a short drive to Fechter’s house to chief big smoke.  He had a three foot bong and a hefty sack of smoker friendly weed.  So we traveled to the house and ripped bong hits until the sack ran out.  I was catching a ride with a neighbor to the concert, so after getting high and eating three bags of Funyuns, I had to venture home.

Being the responsible teenager I was, I designated myself the driver and drove home slowly, waiting for every “stop” sign to turn green.  When I eventually got home, I was just in time to see another car pull into my driveway.  As I inched into my parking spot, a woman, let’s call her Mom, stepped out of her car and watched as I fumbled to act naturally.

As she waited and watched me from the top of the drive way, I cautiously slipped out of my car smiling.  I started to close the door behind me but realized the car was still running.  I slowly slipped back into the driver seat and turned off the engine.  I waived to her and said I was going to the neighbor’s house so that I could catch a ride to the show.

Mom stopped me and said, “Why don’t you come over here and give Mom a hug.”  I moseyed up to her and she pulled me in tightly and whispered in my ear, “Are you stoned?”  For the first time in hours, I quickly moved away and hustled to my neighbor’s house.  It was humiliating and, afterwards, I decided to never smoke weed again.

Now all of these billboards and bus stop ads are making me question if I could get away with smoking again.  They’ve made it seem almost unillegal (or legal for all of you English scholars).  I’m tempted to try it again, and can’t quite figure what’s at stake.

What do you think?  After my dizzying experience and the likelihood that nothing bad could come from the situation, should I try it again?  Or should I walk away real slow like?