Does anyone remember their first high?

[randude101]

I remember laughing a lot and at lot of goofy shit.

 

[ka0tik_kreati0n]

i was 12 the first time i got high. i was hanging out with some older kids.

 

[Marywanna]

No. Shit, I can't even remember what this thread is about..............................

 

[CANNACO-OP]

No. Shit, I can't even remember what this thread is about..............................

make the canna crew laugh

 

[randude101]

Remember when they said smoking pot would make men grow tits?

 

[lordbudly]

i was with my friend joe. joe smoked cigarettes and always tried to persuade me to share his habit. i would decline, health reasons. he'd shrug and puff away. we'd sit on his back deck and flap our jibs, talking about bullshit. girls, mostly. even though i liked boys, we'd talk about the girls he lied about fucking.

being 12, we did shit 12 year olds did while we dreamt about graduating into teenager status. we rode our bikes around, we lit shit on fire, we fucked up a lot.

sitting on a busted up exercise bike, joe was puffing away on a handrolled cigarette. he had more energy in his trademark smirk. i knew what was coming. he didn't preface it with any bullshit. he just straight up asked me, as straight as always: "you want a hit?" no, i'd say. no thanks. health reasons. "no", he said. it's not tobacco, as he explained, instead it was weed. i'd heard about it of course. i knew what weed was. it never occured to me that it was entirely possible for me to try it, so i never gave it much more than a fleeting consideration.

i didn't hesitate. i probably acted a little more courageous than i ever had been. sure, i said. so, just like a normal cigarette? i immediately wondered why i had asked, considering i never smoked. sure, he said. just like a cig. i puffed, not really inhaling. i blew out the smoke i had in my mouth in cloudy blue plumes. i thought i did well, joe probably didn't hit the shit right either.

we traded like that a few more times before the joint was just a weak roach. he flicked it into a neglected garden and picked up a freshly rolled joint that had been waiting patiently on the wooden rail. brilliant! i didn't know if i was high. i didn't have anything to compare to being sober, so i figured i must be high. i probably forced a giggle, and i felt silly and it embarrassed me. i just wanted to keep smoking.

he lit the second joint and this time i really put my best foot forward. i attacked it with as much energy as my mouth could manage. i breathed in deeply, like i was trying to get a lung full of air to practice holding my breath. this time it burned the membranes of my throat, my lungs felt fiery, and i blew the smoke out, coughing. my eyes watered and i didn't like it. i thought, wow. joe chuckled and said something about that "being it". the joint didn't last as long, and joe let me finish it. each time i took as deep a hit as i could manage. he told me to hold it in as long as i could. back then, i figured it was sound enough advice, joe having seniority in the matter.

i started to notice some subtle changes. my mouth was very dry, and even though i had drank water, i still made slick clicking noises when i talked, because my saliva was turning into something more foam than water. my body felt different, and i felt like if i laid down in the grass i'd feel weightless. i liked that. my brain felt like it was buzzing, and i felt like i could FEEL my brain. it was strange. we went inside and watched Iron Chef, and i grabbed a bowl of freezer burnt cosmopolitan ice cream on joe's good wishes, under the condition i also fetch him a bowl.

i ate the ice cream, which still did not taste good, and watched the television. i sat in a recliner and began to worry about going home. it didn't occur to me that my mother would be home shortly. everyday the routine was meet-up at the corner of my street, and joe's street. we'd walk the 2-3 minute walk to the school down the road, and after our classes together we would walk home and hang out at his house, and i would leave and be home before my mother arrived. i didn't know how long i would be high, and i assumed it might be all night. i panicked a little, and asked if i could spend the night. my plan was to call my mom, and tell her i was staying over. joe wasn't cool with that, he wanted to go beat-off before his mom got home. i thought it was gross he told me that, but still respected his domain and i got a headstart on getting home.

it was overcast and dreary. the sky was grey and didn't change color as far as i could see, only faint lines textured the sky revealing that it was more than just empty space. the wind blew and made a marvelous noise. it was strong, but it wasn't a biting, nipping wind. it felt good on my face and blew my hair and clothes back. i felt strong, not being blown back too. i rounded my corner and hoped i wouldn't see my moms car. i did. she'd gotten home early, or i had lost track of time. i noticed my heart beating very quickly and wondered if she'd notice i was different.

i walked in the door and saw my moms boyfriend watching television. "hey, cory!" i said hey, nothing out of the ordinary. he returned to watching television and cleaning a keyboard on the coffee table. my mom was in the kitchen, making jell-o pudding or something. i told her, briefly, i had just gotten back from joes. she said she figured, and that if i didnt' clean my room or at least pick up my laundry, she was going to spit in my jell-o. i laughed, and so did she. she said, no really hon, please do something with your side of the room. (i had shared a room with my younger brother. a few years ago i traded having my own bedroom for a gigantic box of legos with my other brother. bad deal in hindsight. oh well.) i said ok, and went into my room. i undressed to my shorts, laid in bed and got under the covers. i felt good, but not really crazy. i calmed down and a let a smile pass over my face for a few seconds. i listened to a favorite CD, turned over on my side, and took a nap.

later that night, i had some jell-o pudding, and it was good.

Man am I the only young person who has a fuzzy idea about the EXACT age they were when they started?

I remember the place, the people and the method... but I don't know for sure if I was 12 or 13. It was my first (yes, first) year of 8th grade and the people I hung out with were your typical stoners later in life. I had a rather fat friend named Joe who lived basically a 3 min walk away, if that. If there wasn't another couple rows of houses and trees in between my house and his I could easily see him if we were both standing on our front steps. We also lived within walking distance to school, seriously a 5 minute walk from my house. So I'd always walk home with Joe and go to his house to hang out, he was an only child and his mom got home way later than mine so his house was a "safe haven" for a pretty good amount of time so we could do the stupid shit we did. Like cooking stupid shit we found in the kitchen or whatever our bored minds could fathom that would probably land Joe in some serious shit if his parents were around. I remember that when we hung out on his back deck he would smoke cigarettes and I always declined. My mom smokes and I hate it, so I wanted nothing to do with it. I think the way it occurred was he was sitting on this exercise bike his mom had on the back deck and he was smoking as per usual. However it wasn't a cigarette, it was a very shittily rolled joint. I doubt it was actually rolling papers, probably spliced cigarette papers or something. I don't know. Anyways, he asked me if I wanted to smoke like he usually does. Sort of jokingly trying to peer pressure me into it. He tells me its weed and my perspective changes, this might be something I want to try. I'm a little nervous and I've never done drugs before and after all the anti-drug propaganda I've seen I don't know if I should. Joe gets the best of me in the end and we puff on the turd joint until it dies and dispose of the evidence. I didn't quite feel too high but I'm pretty sure I was buzzing something good.
It wasn't too bad and it felt like something I would want to do more of.

I remember the first time I got STONED it was in the woods near my neighborhood, where a neighbor or maybe some other kids had drug a sectional couch into a cleared out section in the woods. You couldn't quite see us from the road or back yards but if you came in just a little bit you could definitely hear us, but it was otherwise "safe".

It was a very surreal environment. The "veteran" smoker amongst us was this kid named Nick who I met at school. He had this grandfather style pipe that I hadn't smoked before. He also had a little bubbler that now that I think of it I don't know if it was home made or not. Long story short, it was one of the happiest moments of my life.

 

[dixbutler]

Freshman in high school. After 1st baseball practice in the gym. We walked home in the dark smoking out of a pop can.

 

[alaskan]

I was either 13, 14, or 15.

Me and a friend had to go to this weird birthday party to make his mom happy, and while we were there a girl that liked my friend gave him a film canister full of weed for free. It was only the second time I'd ever seen the stuff, and I still remember how it smelled, and it gives me a nice tingly feeling when I think about it. Nothing compares in taste/smell nowadays.

Anyways, I ended up staying the night at his house, and after his mom went to bed we went down to the basement/garage to do the deed just outside the garage door, and made a can to smoke out of, and eventually realized we didn't have a lighter.

We found some matches, but couldn't keep them lit long enough because of the breeze, even while working as a team.
So we did the next logical thing and laid down in a car top carrier with the lid closed as far as it would go with a couple of idiots in there.
Well that didn't work, we kept dropping the weed, and it was just too much hassle trying to smoke out of can with matches burning our fingers, a big heavy plastic lid pressing down on our heads/shoulders, and with spiders and stuff all around us.

So we look around in the garage for something better to light up with, and found a nice
full butane torch. One of the big, industrial looking ones. It worked great, but I realize now it probably wasn't the healthiest thing to smoke out of an aluminum can with.

I think we smoked two or three big bowls, the torch burnt them up quick. The whole time my friend was concerned that I wasn't going to get high, being my first time and all, so he kept asking if I felt it yet. I didn't notice any difference until we were walking back into the garage and I tripped over a rake that appeared out of nowhere just to trip me.

I don't remember any of the discussions really, just that I was laughing. A lot. The living room had this spiked/waved/dripped plaster ceiling that looked like razor sharp waves dripping down, and I started thinking how much it would suck if it collapsed on us.

The last thing I really remember was that we liked to pick on his brother (twins, not identical) and that he always slept with a big fan on right next to his bed. We went up to his room and sprayed shaving cream into the fan, sending it everywhere, and then I went downstairs while my buddy did the rest. I was supposed to pretend I was sleeping while he did whatever he was going to do. I think he piled a bunch of cream on his face and then smacked it.
Laying on that couch, pretending to be asleep for no reason, it was the most comfortable thing I could imagine.

Good times, good times.

 

[j6p]

My first experience with cannabis took place in SC, during the summer of 1968. I was hanging out with my buddies D. and C. We drove out to a dealer's house where C. wanted to pick up a bag.

There was however one hiccup - the dealer had moved out of the house, and a couple of rednecks had moved in. D. and I waited in the car while C. walked up to the front door and knocked. New occupant opens the door, looks at C., and says, "Are yew one o' them pot-smokin' hippies?" (This being 1968 and all)

By a stroke of luck, the departed dealer had left an ounce behind in the house when he moved out. Those rednecks didn't want it, but they hadn't tossed it out yet. They gave the bag to C., who then made a fast exit. Amazing. Then we went over to C's place and spent the rest of the evening getting lit.

This new high seemed very strange to me at first, so surreal and dreamy - it was mostly directed at my head. A total contrast to the numbing and body load of alcohol. The cannabis slammed me pretty hard that evening. We smoked a lot, and I have always been sensitive to it.

But I completely enjoyed my first cannabis experience on that southern night. We had a great time, listened to music, went out riding around, etc. Loved every minute of it.

 

[boroboro]

17 years old with my best friend J. We were both pretty straight arrows, staying healthy for sports and avoiding alcohol. He got some weed from a friend, though, and it happened to be the same night we first watched the movie "Easy Rider" (1969, Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper).

We smoked the weed in real bad form, out of a soda can, since we didn't know any better. About 30 minutes later we were both walking down his street (a nice, quiet, respectable residential neighborhood) singing Steppenwolf's "Born to Be Wild" at the top of our lungs, then laughing our fool heads off. Best night of my teenage life.

J, if you were still around it would definitely be my turn to smoke you up, and get back to that happy place.

 

[motaloca]

I was 14, i had band practice and after it was over the guitar player R.I.P. got some marrocan out.
i had told them before that I had smoked, which was a lie.
see we had this fanatic teacher that bombarded us with propaganda, I was scared of pot, serious, how ridiculous, i know.
i was sure i would end up a junkie, i lived around needlepark, so i saw junkies all the time and i didn't want to become one.
so he rolls his joint, lights it and the tiny stinky bandroom was in haze of sweet Moroccan.
it was my turn i was nervous, i took a hit and felt nothing, passed it when it came back my hands were all sweaty, then one of the most important thins in my life happened, i relaxed felt the nice bodystone followed by a nice high, we sat, jammed, laughed, became closer.
That was the day I stopped believing the man.
Best day of my life.
miss you buddy, i named my son after you.

 

[sackoweed]

6th grade and it was hash my brother got ahold of from my friend ian, his dad was a doctor he always had puffages in his houose.. I really only remembering we laughed a ton and my head felt like it was huge and my neck was the size of a needle point.. We were at my friend Ian's house his dad's hash lmao... Im high right now... lol... peace..

sack

 

[boroboro]

That was the day I stopped believing the man.

k+ to you, motaloca.

And thanks to all for these stories, it's been a day full of unhappy news and it's good to hear about the bright side of life.

 

[Kizzattack]

My first high was at the start of summer when I was about 15. A good friend of mine used to occasionally buy a 1/16 oz bag and have a doobie in his tree house in the evening. One day I tried a cigarette and didn't like it, and my friend said that weed was far better than tobacco. So I arranged to have a doobie with him the next night. We went to the tree house on this warm, beautiful evening, had a doobie, and I went home and raided the fridge like never before.

 

[DiscoBiscuit]

I remember my first high like yesterday but it was 35 years ago. I was 12 then, had smoked mexican bullshit a few times without getting high. My buddy's older brother had a couple of things I'd never heard of, Colombian Thunderfuck and a water bong.

I inhaled two good rips, (always had the lungs for big bong hits.) About a half hour later I realized I was balls to the walls stoned. So stoned in fact I became paranoid and decided to walk home. On the way, I imagined my heart was beating so fast that it would surely bust. (Little did I know that one good puke would level things out a bit, )

Since I didn't puke I did the next worst thing. I told my old man I was STONED!!!!!! Pops was kind and suggested I take a lil nap. He didn't even tell Moms.

A year later and several of my buddies caught the pot bug. My slight fear of reefer immediately turned to the bold and perpetual quest that follows me to this day and beyond.

 

[Machine Elf]

Yes I can recall the first and second time smoking

 

[Pythagllio]

It was a life changing event for me. July 1, 1977 in Ridgefield Connecticut. I was hitchhiking on my way back to VA and the fellow who picked me up offered to get me high since I was headed on a long trip. I was positively anti-drug at the time, but was pissed at my parents and knew it would push their buttons if I went home and told them I'd smoked pot. The best way I can describe it is that it completed a circuit in my brain, and so began my lifelong affair with Mary Jane. Best thing that ever happened to me. I'm sure I wouldn't be alive today without it. That's how fucked in the head I was previously.

 

[bigmike420]

it wasn't my first time smoking but my first time getting high, i remember it clear as day.

It was a nice summer day, an old friend of mine found out that i had smoked once before and he demanded that i went and blazed up with him so, i hopped on the bus thinking that it was a waste of time because ive never really gotten high before this.

i meet up with him at his house and we walk to the mountain brow (big cliff overlooking the city) and he pulls out a pipe, i'm thinking to myself shit man i've never done smoked outta anything except a shitty toothpick looking joint (which is why i finally decided i've never gotten high before this) so anyways he packs a full bowl of some really nice smelling weed, hands me the bowl, im like wtf do i do with this, he guides to the shotty, i light 'er up and inhale, first toke it killed my throat and i instantly start hacking a lung, blow out the entire bowl in the process and drop the pipe...he starts howling at me and im like "fuuuuck man i lost all the weed", hes like no worries pulls out a big bag and repacks the bowl, he then takes a toke properly showing me "how its done" ahah, so we ended up smokin like 6-7 bowls between us and head to the tim hortons (donut n' coffee shop for all who aren't Canadian)

when we get there he orders up a dozen donuts and 4 large chocolate milks, at this point im blitzed out of my mind and ive got the munchies haarrrrd, we find ourselves the perfect seat in the corner window and just start chowing down these donuts, both of us just stuffing our face, we must've gotten about half way through the box when this really over weight woman wearing a skin tight pink outfit walks passed us outside down the street, he turns to me with like half a donut stuffed in his face "MMMM, yo, imagine her hot" the second he says that we both just start cracking up laughing for a good 15-20 minutes, trying to not spit out all the food we've got crammed in our mouths, litterally my favourite time getting high ever good times man good times.

4 years later, we've become a little distant as friends (thanks to a lot of bullshit drama) but were both still proudly toking

 

[billy_big_bud!]

i will never forget it. it was an august evening in a year i cant recall but i am pretty sure i was 11. bruce springsteen was my one and only favorite artist ( thanks to the theme music from the U S express mike rotundo and barry windham). springsteen and the e street band were coming to the exhibition place at the CNE but the parents wouldnt up the change. i tried picking green beans to earn the money but it just wasnt making the cut. my uncle, who worked the flag tower at mosport speedway picked me up early one saturday morning and handed me a box of glad garbage bags. he told me to get busy asking people at their campsites if they would mind if i cleaned up their empties from the night before. of coarse no one minded and to this day i cant understand why drunk racing fans would litter their entire campsite with empties, but they place was like a beer warzone. by the end of the day i was tired, hungry and coated with stale beer but i had accumulated 7 garbage bags full of empties. that night a shower never felt so good in my life. after my uncle cashed in the empties for me i had about $35. for a kid my age at that time. i was caked up. the ticket was $28 so i got it and still had bank. twas a happy day for young billy. also puchasing a ticket was the girl across the street from me denise. a french skank who was way better at picking beans than me and who my parents were always trying to compare me to. since she was 2 years older than me and oh so responsible, my parents agreed that my dad would accompny us to the EX for the day and at night when the concert was on my dad would wait for us outside of the exibition place after the concert. the day was a thing that dreams are made of. hot dogs, pop, ice cream and then there was the shooting gallery. i had heard rumour of it but didnt know if it was real or not and there it was. fully automatic bb guns in the form of an M16. at a buck a pop i rinsed a good $5 just to be able to shoot it. didnt win a damn thing but it was fun. concert time. we get in and get to our seats. and it starts. the man bruce springsteen takes the stage and gets to rocking. the entire concert was kick ass from begining to end and im sure it would have been regardless but here is the kicker. all through out the concert the guy behind me was smoking non stop. to me at that age there was only one thing that people smoked and that was cigarettes but these were the stinkiest cigarettes i had ever smelled and i HATED smoke. he was burning like a hippy and by the time i mustered up the courage to turn around and give him a dirty look, prompting his wife to elbow him in the gut, it was too late. i was high as a kite. the concert was totally killer. i loved it, left and we found my dad and my buddy who had come along but didnt have a concert ticket. we left, got on the GO train and were on our way home. at that point what i really remember is that i was telling jokes that had denise,my dad and my buddy philip in stiches with the jokes i was making and i was hungry as fuck. to that dude, thanks. it wasnt til close to 10 years later that i realized what had happened.........

 

[phr3d0m2gr0]

My quest to becoming a stoner started junior year of high school. I had always been a pretty good kid. Like others my parents had given me responsibility and I had handled it well; never smoking, drinking, or doing any other drugs. I had been offered grass and alcohol several times due to the skater crowd I hung out with, but had always declined. I had partly believed all the D.A.R.E. bullshit, thinking if I got involved with anything that altered my being, I would go down a bad road. Junior year I began a paradigm shift.

During high school I was always in the shop classes, building shit, or just fuckin' around doing stupid things with friends. One day one of my best friends since middle school, let's call him C, was in the teachers office on the computer. I came in to talk and he had a web page up with all sorts of weird looking flowers. They had cool names like White Widow, Blueberry, AK-47, and Skunk. He told me it was cannabis and that he wanted to order seeds and grow some. My interest was piqued and so I began my research. Why was cannabis really like? Was it really bad for you? How do you grow it?

This post is gonna be longer than I thought. Time to toke...

:

Ok so fast forward a year. I had done a shitload of research. I checked out every book at the library that was about weed, even the one's AGAINST weed. I read books about outdoor growing, indoor growing, legal issues, effects of smoking, and on and on. Then when I had exhausted the resources at the library C and I took to the internet. We learned how to convert a security light to a remote ballast grow light. When we had free time between school and skateboarding we were on overgrow, lurking and taking in as much information as possible.

At this point I still had not smoked. I decided that I wouldn't smoke anything, but something that I grew. Part of the reason was that I wanted to produce something myself and be proud of it, I'm like this in a lot of my other hobbies. The other reason was so I could see the process from beginning to end, giving me some semblance of the smoking grass being ok and not BAD like the man had taught me.

Around four months before graduation from high school C and I began our first grow. Using a 70w HPS and some bagseed we had to acquire form some of our smoker friends. Getting the seeds took a while, but we finally got five or six. From those first seeds came four plants, of which two were males. During the next three months we took loving care of the plants. I came over almost everyday to check on them, making sure we did everything right.

Finally a couple weeks before graduation we cut them down and began to dry them. We agreed we would not smoke any of it until graduation night. Smoking the results of our teamwork on the night of our entrance into the "real" world. I've never anticipated something so much before in my life.

Shit getting pretty long. Hope I'm not boring ya'll. Time for another toke...


In the meantime my dad got in a bad accident. This may have only increased my urge to try smoking, but C and I didn't indulge. After graduation was over and I'd finished visiting my dad in the ICU we headed for the hills. It was C, his girlfriend, my girlfriend, and I.

C had gotten this little ceramic and metal dragon pipe from his dad. It was used for tobacco so it had a bit of a weird taste to it. We packed up a bowl of our homegrown. I took in the sweet smell of properly cared for herb and told my friend to light up first. He told me he had never smoked, which surprised me as I swear I remember him saying he had during middle school. Anyway his girlfriend, who had been a big stoner about a year before, told him what to do. He lit it up and passed to me. The told me to try and just act like I was breathing, try to take it into my lungs. Lighter to the grass, I sucked in.

The smoke went into my lungs and i held it for a couple seconds until I started to cough. I got that infamous lump in the throat feeling, but I didn't really feel anything so we toked more. The bowl was finally full of white ash, but I still felt normal. C started to fell it and asked me if I was high. I said no I don't think I'm high, but everyone started laughing. They thought I was high, but I refused to believe them. Then I looked around into the woods. We were sitting on a picnic table at the top of a local hill in the city. The top was covered in a grove of trees and as I looked out into the night forest up there it hit me.

Everything looked like a movie, then everything became wavy and I began to crack up. It was all good fun and laughs until C and I realized we had cottonmouth. I was enjoy the ride as we walked through the forest to the car to go get something to eat and drink. C's girlfriend hadn't smoked and so she said she would drive us to wendy's. Once we were on our way to wendy's, in the back of C's car I really felt it hit me again. C began to fall asleep and I just realized everything was really warped. Plus C's girlfriend kept up shifting then downshifting then braking and just driving in a very jerky style. This mad me feel sick in the stomach and I just tried to fall asleep. At wendy's C devoured several burgers while I ate one and drank a huge soda. I then passed out in the car and don't really remember anything else.

After the experiance I knew I found something I liked. I had already become obsessed with growing grass, but now I could actually enjoy the fruits of my labor too. I knew I just needed to stay out of cars with bad drivers and I would always have a fun time.

Five years later I'm still blazin', growin', and being productive in life. I love cannabis so much! I'm grateful to all the people who put out books, posted DIY's online, and generally shared their interest in cannabis with me. I'm truly proud to be a part of the cannabis community.

-Phr3