Stoner Forums - A Marijuana & 420 Friendly Community

The first time I smoked, I was at a buddy's house. His dad did some sort of crazy secret government work, and left the guy thousands of dollars each month to pay for bills and food and stuff while he was gone. You can guess where most of it was spent!

So I show up to this guy's Halloween party, and we're all in costume. The host himself is dressed in regal purple with a crown. Upon reaching the little campfire where we were holding the party, he asks, "Who among you is wise and strong enough to embark on the most epic of quests with me?"

I immediately volunteer, and we go off on this short little journey into the woods, where we find a cooler full of every kind of pilzner and malt beer you can think of. We carry the massive stash of booze-loot back to the campfire, and the festivities begin.

At some point - I can't quite remember when, it was just pretty late - the host breaks out a bong. I knew what it was, and I knew a bit about pot, I had just never tried it, because I wanted to wait until I was older (I guess I was paranoid about my brain development, or something). The bowl is packed, and starts making its rounds. When it comes to me, I take it, and look imploringly at the host, completely unsure of what to do. He take the piece from me, and quickly demonstrates.

With my newfound knowledge of how to operate this alien device, I have my first encounter with Mary Jane.

The first hit was delicious, and I managed to hold it in thanks to my prior reliance on cheap pipe tobacco. Everyone says I should hit it again, just to make sure ("Most people don't get high the first time, so you gotta try extra hard, man!"), and I do. The second hit was, if anything, even more tasty. I assume it was some pretty fire stuff, considering the host's financial situation.

I pass it along, and continue to drink my beer. The bong goes around a few times, and is reloaded. Someone asks if I want to hit the second bowl and, feeling completely normal, I opt in. Again, the bong makes its rounds, and is cashed after about the second time through.

I still wasn't feeling anything, and we didn't pack a third bowl. I chalked it up to being a first-timer, and was making my way to the treeline for a piss, when it hit me.

Dear god, did it hit me.

In mid-stride, I collapsed where I stood, and just lay there, wide awake but unable to move, for quite a while. During this time, I had fleeting pangs of queasiness come and go, and the most intense case of the spins I've ever felt. The world kept rolling over itself like a dryer, and all stimuli came on as if from a great distance.

Apparently, the host offered to take everyone on a hay-ride (is that just a southern thing?), and I feel some intense vibrations, then something very large passes by my head.

That son of a bitch was buzzing me with the four wheeler! The tires go just past my head several times in what seemed like seconds, but was probably closer to minutes. I was fully conscious, but completely paralyzed.

After a few hours, I was finally able to move again, and rejoined the party, feeling completely out of touch with reality. It was as if I was just a soul, floating along with no body, and unable to communicate. I spoke to people, and I could feel the words leaving my mouth, but I couldn't hear anything but a sort of low hum.

The host pulled up to the campfire with his ATV and trailer, and having missed out on the first few runs, I decided to join.

It was magical.

The ride goes on for what seemed like hours; dark, scraggly limbs rush out of the darkness ahead, coming within inches of everyone on the trailer. Ancient trees, silhouetted against the harsh wash of the ATV's lights, loom on either side of the trail. The wind was tossing my hair around, caressing my face, and made me feel virtually weightless. It was an indescribable journey into the depths of hell and back.

After the ride, I pass out, alone, next to the campfire. The next morning, a friend comes outside to see if I'm still alive. He jokes that he had been inside with a warm blanket, while I was out here shivering next to a pile of ashes. Surprisingly, I felt wonderful - better then I've ever felt immediately after waking up.

Those were the days...

was 13 and saw my stepdad smoking pot.. so one day i ended up smoking it up on my balcony.. his weed was pretty good.. and until today almost everyday i have been smoking pot .. i can afford to i have a bunch on plants in my closet..

I was like 12 or 13, in the basement of my parents' house with my brother and his friends, and he calls me into the bathroom, him and his buddy are in there with this fucking monstrousity of a homemade bong, consiting of 2 waterbottles and a milk jug. He creams it til it's turning yellow and tells me to breath in off of it until I can't anymore, and then repeat until all the smoke is gone. I proceeded to do so and then laughed maniacally at nothing while eating doritoes for hours.

__________________
"...One of God's own prototypes; Too wierd to live, and too rare to die."

I was 12, I found a joint in my brother's room and smoked it. I smoked it in my room and my room REEKED. I sprayed it down, a lot. My parents came home and were like, what's that smell? I said I didn't know & that by the way, Bobby had his girlfriend over.

What can I say? I don't like getting in trouble. :[

__________________