When Halloween Went to Pot

Disclaimer: The events I am about to relate happened a very, very long time ago. Halloween of 1980 to probably be exact. I may have had my share of alcohol, and some others' shares too, but I have never endorsed other drug use then or now. I don't believe in peer pressure, have with maybe one glaring exception never succumbed to it--you can't even get me to eat food I don't want! But, I was young in those days, and I voluntarily, very briefly wanted to try something other than cigarettes.

Having said all that, I had a very close friend that I'd known since kindergarten, my dad gave me his Dinner's Club card and sent about 4 of us the the Quality Inn (a real restaurant in those day) for my 16th birthday party/dinner. This guy and his date went with my boyfriend and I to our Jr Prom, and he might have joined us for the Senior prom, but by that time he had run into some difficulties with the education system, so he and some other friends drank most of the beer and generally destroyed the house before I even got back for the after party. The point being that for some reason he really, really wanted to be the first person to get me stoned. And he did. In the screened in porch of our old house on Randolf Avenue. And honestly, I had a blast. I can't be sure, but I feel like my boyfriend, the only one with any sense or ambition, just watched and drove. I don't know how long we cruised town, yapping out the window at random cars, and just generally doing stupid dope stuff (there really is a reason why they call it dope), and pretty much calling attention to our altered state and stupidity! It was so good, we went back to my house and did it again. The whole thing, wash, rinse, repeat while making an ass of ourselves. It was, without question the only enjoyable marijuana experience of my life!! I remember it extremely fondly, even now.
So coming off that first high experience, I was ready to give it another try. Hence the foundation for the Halloween party that was truly from Hell! It was at was a perfect October night. I went with my boyfriend, my best friend and an other guy I'd known since I was 5. I have no idea where the party was, but it was in the boonies, in and around someone's barn, very decked out for Halloween. The beer made the rounds first and everything was rolling pretty much as usual. Now where I got the drugs, I have no idea. The other four could have been helping out, but pretty much I think of Peter Fonda and his Easy Rider don't Bogart that joint. See, all I ever really did was drink, and he who could consume the most and still be vertical was the undisputed champion. The problem here is the group I was with either was they either didn't share the fine print with me that smoking wasn't like drinking, you didn't have to finish it, or they just didn't know anymore than me. I could be counted on even then to be a party overachiever. Oh my God, it was Nightmare on farmland way before Christmas pretty much from there on in. I think I flipped out quietly at first. Sitting on something steady with my head between my legs, but as my paranoia grew and the drugs really started to kick in, it sucked to be those guys!! It didn't take them too long to realize they needed to get me out of there--so much for their party experience. I think we may have dropped my girlfriend off on the way, but my friend Tommy followed us to my house, probably correctly expecting my boyfriend had more on his hands than he could handle. I suspect you could consider that my first panic attack. The guys got me in the house and Tommy got the hell out of there while the getting was still good. I laid on the living room carpet bemoaning how I was never, ever going to come down and I was going to be stoned for the rest of my life. Somewhere in the middle of that the compulsion to take a shower took over. Must have come from one too many Hollywood black and whites where they always throw the drunk in the shower and they miraculously become coherent again and promise anyone who will listen that they have learned their lesson and they will be riding the straight and narrow from there on in. One aspect of that idea was true. I can promise you without fear of lying or even forgetting that it was years, and some more years before I ever even took a hit from someone's pot. But mostly the result was I was just wet and sure I'd be stoned forever. Couldn't even begin to guess how long I was flipping out, but I guarantee you it was hours longer than any teenage boyfriend should have to absorb. He was a always a great guy in a crisis ! It probably isn't an accident that most of the men I have spent any time with have some odd sort of patience and a lot of tolerance! That's pretty much the end of that debacle. I eventually came down and calm down enough to go to bed, and the boyfriend was able to escape.
I want to reiterate that it was a very, very long time before I ever, ever had even one hit again. And even to this day I never volunteer to join in. Sort of like getting sick from something as a child and you never want to eat it again! But my favorite part, over the years I have witnessed several newbies who got the cliff notes and missed the fine print and were having an unpleasant experience. It is a look on someone's face that I can recognize at 100 paces. Although I will admit most of them took their medicine a lot better than I did.
Thirty years later I can assure you that on the very, extremely rare cases I indulge, I am nothing if not the one hit wonder!! Except on one other occasion, but it is a Christmas tale and I think I'll save it until then.