4/20's Of Yore

If you and I have anything in common, then you know the significance of April 20. No not the yearly neo-Nazi meetings, but the other thing.

The weed smoking.

I was in college when I first discovered the joys of 4/20. My freshman year, it was Easter sunday. Not many people were in town, but I found myself at a friend's house at 4:20 a.m., smoking out of a gas mask. Good times.

But it wasn't until the next year when I really made it count. Sure, I was awake at 4:20 a.m., as usual, although I think I had class at 4:20 in the afternoon. I'm pretty sure I didn't skip it, which boggles the mind, even now.

But I made up for it later. I ended up buying a quarter ounce of some okay stuff, not great, but good for rolling J's. I rolled it into about six joints.

Me and a buddy drove over to someone else's house in my 1999 White Jetta, an efficient German four-door sedan.

Two other people get in the car, we park behind their house so we can't be seen, seal all doors and windows, and we go to fucking town.

We start off with a joint for the front seat and a joint for the back seat. That is a nice start, and it gets pretty smoky in there.

The remaining four J's? Each person got one. By the time we were finished, I couldn't see the person sitting next to me. Literally.

You could hear people, the the music, but for all I knew, I was in a scene from "The Mist."

That's what it was like. It felt like every breath was like taking a bong hit. Good times, good times.

It's the first and only time I have blacked out while smoking when alcohol wasn't also involved.

I remember opening up my sunroof, and watching the smoke pour out. That's about all I remember. I don't remember leaving or going to sleep.

I was hungover the next morning. The smell was on my car for literally weeks. But it's the price you have to pay.