Where was the worst place that you have been high?

I was staying with a friend this past New Year's Eve and we had just finished smoking an extendo with 4 blunts. My friend stayed on the southside of Springfield, Ohio. For those of you who don't know South Springfield is one of the most drug-ridden, impoverished parts of the city. Anyway I was stoned out of my mind and I volunteered to make the munchie run the the convenience store a couple blocks away. I ended up getting lost and my friend's room mate went looking for me and found me 2 blocks from the store going in the completely wrong direction. I was lucky. It could've turned out much, much worse for me.

 

I got home from smoking all afternoon with friends. I was tired and bored so I went home around 8 that night. Didn't realize my parents were having a party with friends. They are not at all 420 friendly but they all have been drinking most the night. I still had that feeling like everyone in the room knew I was high.

Another time my buddy came home from Hawaii (he moved there). He brought nugs from their. I never smoked them before and wasn't expecting much. Hit it from a bong and was ripped beyond what I have ever felt before (smoker for 3 years). I had to go to a family party after that lol. So I went home first and passed out for a little while to sleep it off before going by grandma

 

Working at a busy pizza joint just standing next too a 500 degree oven unloading pizza after pizza ever 2 minutes sweating and being high JUST DOESNT MIX!!!! 🙅🙅

 

Equally both my worst and best... Alone at a Taylor Swift concert, in the VIP pit, surrounded by teenage girls dressed as cheerleaders...


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I'm ashamed that I not only literally lol'd at that, but can relate to it as well.

 

back of a cop car that almost ran me over at 3 in the morning, about an hour after eating a weed brownie(first time with edibles) and smoking 2 gs of some dank with my best friend at the time.. oh and I was 14 at the time, cop ended up being really cool and giving me a ride home.. guess not all cops are bad

 

Onstage. There were three acts to the play. I was in the first two. Someone said, "Let's get high." I said, "ok". Not ok. We had the finale still. I thought it would wear off by then. The potency was at its peak. All I could think was, "They know, THEY KNOW!!!!


"They", never knew. But it was the worst 20 minutes of my life. And I did it again and again.....

 

An interview room with the police. Doesn't get any worse.

 

Hands down in a holding cell. One of my "homies" got caught smoking in his dorm room. The campus police started intimidating him and he told them he got everything from me and everything in his dorm room (scales, grinder, etc) belonged to me.. keep in mind, i didnt even stay at the dorms.. so whole time thats going on, im in another room completely oblivious of my impending run in with the pseudo-piglets. I smoke out a quarter with some other guys, just going in!s Lol grav bongs, joints, more grav bongs. When im leaving down the hall about to go home, literally 9 campus officers pop up out of nowhere. They only found residue and a little bit of ganja in a pill bottle, but being DC, they still arrested my ass. So im blazed as hell, handcuffed in the back of a cop car.. im thinkin, yeah my dads gonna pop out and be like "see this is why kids should say focused instead of weed blah blah blah" to my disappointment, i was taken to the precinct by my new police chauffeur . Spent 9 hours in that holding cell, even fell asleep high as hell lol. I woke up thinking it was a dream... thankfully everything was dismissed. Lol never again

 

My first post.


I was visiting family in Tampa for my cousin's Bar Mitzvah. We went to the synagogue for the Bar Mitzvah and I ran into one of my distant cousin's and he asked me if i wanted to smoke. I said yes, so we get up together during the reception to go outside. I saw my mom's face, like she knew her son was going out to get high because my cousin I was going with is a known stoner. I was an inexperienced stoner at the time. We go out and light a one hitter and I took 2 hits and I was fucked up. I miss those days. Well while we were smoking we saw a Sherrif right next to us. We didn't even notice and he didn't even notice. We lucked out on that one. We go back inside and I am tripping my ass off. I sit next to my mom and ask her for Listerine strips that disolve in your mouth. I took all of them and started making weird mouth sounds. Then the rabbi starts praying and that freaked me the fuck out. My mom saw I was trippin and took me outside and told me we were almost done that I could have done it later. My mom was cool about it. Never got pissed I smoked, just that I smoked during my cousin's bar mitzvah.

 

Oh shit that reminds me of this time me and my bro were chillin in my room (non stoner friend) so I was smoking a bowl to myself of some shit I just got that my other friend that sold it to me said it was medical. I took two hits and got a text from my uncle (an undercover cop) saying to be ready he GONNA be at my house so im like shit im stoned so I put my shit up and look to my bro
"Dude...do I look high? Can you smell anything on me?"
"Nah your good bro"
So he shows up and I walk around to the passenger side and hop in and realize he isn't even in this truck so I jump out and he throws me the keys to it and says "you gotta drive this one were picking something up"
At this point im blazed but im like UHHH okay I can do this I have to do this
So my bro hops in beside me, I have no license, This being my like 6th time driving, 1st time driving high and to top it off at night. All I could do was focus on the yellow line and ask my bro every 10 minutes "am I driving good? I have no fucking clue how I'm this high still" and he just kept goin "yeah man your good just keep your eyes on the road" I don't even know how I made it, the entire drive was wavy and scary

 

At a track meet... It was interesting

 

Care to share the story with us bro?

 

It was college, a buddy and I used to get high every day, all day. We smoked before a track meet and it wasn't bad . None of us won our races but it was a buzzkill because I wanted to do everything slow lol. My coach never noticed, he would just stare at me throughout the meet lol


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Jail and school.

Also in the back seat with my cousin driving, who was tipsy and on drugs. Oh plus she had a warrant and was driving crazy. Scary shit.

 

I did some naughty stuff 30+ years ago and got put inside for a few weeks. For driving offences, so it was 'Civil' rather than 'Criminal' - I don't and never have had a Criminal Record. But I got sent down effectively for repeatedly giving the finger to the man. And smoked some good shit in there!


Real sad to see the ones who got it brought in for our little coterie, whacked out on their bunks having just shot up though.

 

I work with mentally handicapped individuals for a living, this individual in question i no longer work with, thank god.


He is normally very calm and collect but when he is having anxiety coupled with a bad day, shit can get crazy pretty quick. Anyways, i got called into the house mid-session and being a young stud i was like "Oh yeah, i can handle whatever, i'll go check it out quick" to my boss as she said there was a crisis going on and the workers were not responding.


So i arrive about 10 minutes later and find 3 knives stuck into the bathroom door upon entering the house and i am like "Oh shit, were talkin this kinda crazy, im blazed as fuck, this ain't cool.." As the bathroom is just to the right of the front door upon entering. So i meander over and hear the client screaming in the basement and i yell down "Is everything ok?" and the client barrels up the stairs past me to the knife drawer, grabs a hand full of them and starts throwing them down the stairs until i tell him to stop, then he hucks one at me and it gets stuck into the front door, barely missing me so i run for cover behind it and basically sit there and taunt him as he is hucking knives at me and using the door to pull infront of me to take away myself as a target, but then opening it to taunt him to throw them so he no longer has any to throw.


After that he was calmed down and i didn't even really realize what had happened, i was just in the heat of the moment so when my 2 co-workers come up stairs they are just amazed at what i had done, lol. I was too, but it was the heat of the moment and being blazed helped me think outside of the box on that one. Kind of a buzz kill tho.

 

Del Norte county corrections center, California. Possession of less than an ounce. Was high when I went in but wasn't enjoying it. Got to see the sun again six months later.

 

If this is about heavy situations: I guess this was about 1980. For the most part I estimate the date of youthful memories based on what we were smoking! That is like the Timeline of my mid-teens to mid-twenties, an errata of availability of high-class illicit uppers and psychedelics from the mid-seventies to mid-eighties; and the evolution of my life around it. For a few years, in that period, life was an unbelievable blast! Though while (mostly) hashish played the major role, there were significant events enjoyed solely under the influence of, say, amphetamine; LSD; psilocybe mushrooms; coke. Often it was one or more and black hash - though much of that was too wild to really remember.
My mate and I were stopped by the cops one night. He was known to them, but at that point I wasn't. We both had pill boxes - meant for holding enough hash for the evening, but we didn't have any that night. What we'd had, was high-grade coke. Or, anyhow, I<span class="redactor-invisible-space"> did. I forget why, but his pill box was empty.</span> He had to turn out his pockets on the hood of the car, and when he put the pill box down, the cop picked it up and said "Smoking dope now, are we?". Then they patted him down. Me, I had a pill box with a wrap of rich-person-grade coke in my pocket. When it came to my turn I emptied out my pockets except for the pill box, and mentally readied myself for the inevitable pat down, cuffs, trip down town, something appalling like a 7 year minmum - and they didn't pat me<span class="redactor-invisible-space"> down!</span>

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<span class="redactor-invisible-space">But that wasn't cannabis-related other than we didn't have any!</span> The time they did pat me down, I had a piece of hash in my jacket pocket - about 0.5g maybe? Anyway, enough for two of to spend the rest of the night in the right place. The cops stopped us in a street near the edge of town, on a really dark night, near enough to a streetlamp to be well lit, but six feet away was pitch black grassland. Again, they searched my mate first. When I had to turn out my pockets, I took out this piece of hash, said "Huh! Bit of shit!" and nonchalently tossed it into the grass before they could react. One of them briefly looked like he wanted to assault me! So, good in some ways, bad in others! It was all the dope we had on us and I'd thrown it away! Hilarious sticking it to the man; useful testing what you can get away with; useful learning how to do it, how to 'brazen it out'. It's like to most people relating this kind of stuff it looks like you're bragging - like about how fearless you are. That's not it at all, though you do eventually lose the fear, the more you do it. Naturally. But actually you're in this situation where it's win or lose; losing is really bad. You've got, as it were, nothing to lose. If there's something you can do to maybe save the situation you have to try it. I guess it's like - and largely down to - being a good liar. Only there is a difference; why<span class="redactor-invisible-space"> you're telling whoppers. If it's to rob someone, you're a worthless piece of shit. If it's to save yourself from the 'War on Drugs' lynch mob, it's survival. Being able to lie your arse off, face them down, to 'brazen it out', is about understanding what's at stake; what the principles are.</span>


Anyhow, I'm gonna post the main 'heavy situation' smoking story when I get back from the shop. You know, when I rip this nicotine patch off and buy more bacca!
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The town – had 100,000 inhabitants, so I guess some wouldcall it a city – used to have this ‘Show'. Held on a handful of acres ofmuniciple land, it was a kind of trade show, highlighting the larger of the localservices and businesses, like a counterpoint to the carnival. It wasn't an annual affair, and I only ever went to two: the first at 14or 15, ‘cos a friend had enthused about the free cigarettes in the kind of ‘workingexhibit' one of the banks was fielding. Sure enough there were tubs ofcomplimentary king-size cigarettes – Dunhill, as I recall – there for thetaking!
The second time I went, age 19 I believe, my mate and Iwent. It was at a new location now, about two or three minutes walk from theCouncil offices and the Police Station.
The Police tent was a marquee about 15' by 30'. On the nearlong side was an entrance at each end. Along the short sides and the far longside were tables and displays. Between the entrances of the near long side weremore tables, about which stood dignitaries and high ranking cops talking. So,there was one, long path from one end to the other. Smack in the middle of thefar long side was a mock-up of a lavatory cubicle, with a mannikin sprawled onthe pedestal, hypodermic sticking out of it's arm, mock blood tastefullydistributed; while ten feet away stood posh-looking local big-wigs, ladycouncillor maybe, Lady Whothefuck, maybe; senior Police Commander-type in hisdress uniform.
It was my mate's idea, I freely admit! For whatever reason,we had this on-going competition to see who could handle situations requiring ‘balls'.Usually that involved stuff like one of us saying a chosen word, in a publiclocation, loud enough to be heard, then the other saying it louder. That gotreal hilarious! It wasn't about shocking; you said, what you said, in a neutraltone; just clearly, unmistakably. It was about laughing at people who foundwords shocking, who were made uneasy by hearing people say what they themselveswouldn't dare to. But the real point of such behaviour is to set yourself free.Same effect as Dangerous Sports; motorcycling, except rather than freeingyourself from the fear of death, you free yourself from the fear of life.
So, we walked into the Police tent, stood in front of the ‘dead-junkie-on-the-crapper'mock-up, and lit a joint of potent black. As I recall that was supposed to beKashmiri, and was the 2^nd harshest hash I ever smoked. A wonder wedidn't have fits of coughing; not that the worry would have been drawingattention to ourselves, since everyone in the tent must have smelt it. Onething that makes me laugh today is how we thought, back then, that it wasvirtually odorless! That has to have been because we smoked it constantly. So,we stood there, toking on this joint, passing it back and forth. Nothing happened;nobody said a word. It has to have been a mixture of dignitaries being put sofar out of their depth they kept their mouth shut, and senior cops not wantingthe fall-out from acknowledging us. Interesting dynamic, Politics!
I was shitting myself the entire time, but damn glad I didit!