In 1987 i had decided to try weed for the first time. It's not that i was a stranger to hesher partying, i had already at that point discovered an affinity for peach schnapps and on any given night could be found lurking around with stolen Gennese pounders stashed in the recesses of my leather jacket. By this point i had been close to alcohol poisoning my cheap scotch and had already developed a fondness for acid and cheap speed but to enjoy weed you actually had to smoke it. Bleecchh! My parents were chain smokers and heaping foul ashtrays littered our house, the grossest one sat on the kitchen table where i would try to construct a fortress of cereal boxes to avoid the teetering pile of butts and ash as i attempted to scarf down my Golden Grahams. For me smoking anything seemed about as enticing as sucking on a cat turd. A friend of mine was a small time pot peddler and we had been hanging out in his basement playing pool and listening to "screaming for vengeance" and probably ranking the "doability" of our female classmates. My buddy had proudly constructed a gravity bong out of 2 litre plastic soda bottles. He demonstrated it and it out of boredom (and probably egged on by the anthemic "(take these)chains") i decided to give it a go. It became an event, the handful of stoned longhairs high-fived me and jostled me as they packed the bong. The smoke was thrust into my mouth and lungs. I fucking hated it. The taste of burn had immediately flashed images of over filled car ashtrays and the smell of my stepfather's work jacket. I reeled, i coughed and gagged. The whole time Rob Halford's once welcome howl became a diaphragm cramping shriek. I threw up the pretzels we had absconded from my friend's mom's snack closet. Everyone paused and looked at the pile of up-chuck next to the washing machine then someone howled in celebration triggering a round of back pats, headbanging and air guitar. As we soaked in side b of this record i realised that weed wasn't for me.
No comments:
Post a Comment