OK, so I’m the paper’s movie reviewer, and my editor
wanted me to do a guide to the best stoner movies. I accepted the task,
but then realized something: I AM AN ABSOLUTE NERD FAILURE WHEN IT
COMES TO MARIJUANA!
I have only smoked pot a few times in my life, and most of those
experiments are testaments to why I’ve only smoked pot a few
times in my life. I SUCK AT SMOKING POT!
So, instead, I have chosen to recount some pot smoking memories in
chronological order as a sort of public service announcement for why
certain people should never, ever inhale. You will find some references
to movies, music, TV and concert-going, but you will also discover that
I am the last guy you need to talk to when it comes to discovering the
best “stoner movies.” I think you’ll conclude that no
marijuana deliverance devices have any business anywhere near my
lips.
The first time
The first time I smoked pot I was a junior in high school and was
working the late shift at McDonalds. I had no concept of how many drags
to take, or how long I should hold the shit in my lungs, so I smoked
the whole joint quite quickly. I was in charge of dishwashing that
night.
Needless to say, I did a crap job on the damned dishes, and because
all of my coworkers were equally wrecked, I had to call my dad to come
pick me up at 2 in the morning (“Hey dad … I’M
STOOONNNNED!”). The effect of this phone call on my teenaged
relationship with my dad is more the subject of a short novel than a
paragraph in a newspaper story.
The second
time
I was on a train from Long Island to see Roger Waters in concert.
Some guys from Kings Park had a Hefty bag full of weed, so I joined in.
I recall eating way too much at Wendy’s before the show and
feeling very sleepy when I took my seat. I had bought my ticket after
my friends and wound up in a section of Madison Square Garden all by
myself. (Roger’s tour wasn’t selling very well.)
I fell asleep during his rendition of “If” and was woken
up by that freaking loud helicopter in “The Happiest Days of Our
Lives” with Roger yelling “YOU … YES YOU …
STAND STILL LADDY!” It scared the piss out of me. Afterwards, I
instituted my lifelong ban on smoking pot or drinking to excess at
concerts, which remains in effect to this day.
The third time
I was at college, and my roommate had some pot on him. We smoked it
and watched part of Apocalypse Now in our dormitory suite. THIS
WAS NOT A GOOD IDEA! I then retreated to my room and listened to Pink
Floyd’s The Final Cut on CD. It was wonderful! Then I made
the regrettable decision to take in Michael Jackson’s Bad
next. The terrible “I Just Can’t Stop Loving You”
ruined my night.
The fourth time
My best friend had a job at a college and one of his students gave
him some weed, claiming that it was “really good.” We
smoked it from a bong, and I proceeded to throw up all over the
place.
We tried to cheer up our panicking selves by watching Ren &
Stimpy and, let me tell you, Ren the angry Chihuahua is not
something you want to see when dangerously high. He went into one of
his angry, bug-eyed tantrums and I think this is where I started
crying. Then, long before Donnie Darko was ever conceived, I saw
evil bunny rabbits, nasty little brown fanged creatures scampering all
over the floor trying to eat my feet.
The next day, my friend and I concluded that the batch we smoked had
something considerably stronger than marijuana in it, and he should
never accept any weed from students again. He then finished smoking the
contents of the bag, and I swore off the stuff for over three
years.
The return
In the early ’90s, one of my DJ friends had some weak, dimebag
shit that we smoked while hanging out on the balcony of my new
apartment. No bunnies attacked my feet, and no pivotal concert moments
were missed due to napping, so it was an overall pleasant
experience.
The next few times (probably three
times) while divorcing
I was going through a sad divorce in the mid-90s and wound up living
with the friend mentioned in the paragraph above. He would try to cheer
me up with pot, and it sometimes worked. I remember when we heard the
lyrics to a Pavement song (“We got the money!”) and laughed
ourselves silly when we discovered the track was titled “Brinx
Job.” We just thought that was a regular riot.
Trying to be cool after a play
I was in a production of Hair and would hide in the corner
while everybody else really embraced temporary lives as hippies. I took
a hit off somebody’s pipe to try and have some fun and be part of
the crowd but wound up self-ruminating on current relationship
troubles. I eventually fell asleep on a couch somewhere in a fetal
position. I did not smoke pot again for 10 years.
Trying to be cool in Seattle
I was visiting a friend in Seattle. I have a long-standing policy of
no drinking or drug-taking if driving is even a remote possibility.
Consequently, I hadn’t been drunk in public since my early
college days. I was relying on public transportation that night, so I
dove right in on the beer and mixed drinks. When I got back to my
friend’s house, he rolled a “spliff”—which I
learned was a half tobacco, half weed contraption … very
educational. For the first time in my life, I mixed drinking and pot
smoking. I proceeded to “spin out” and wound up crashed on
a bed, talking to myself and trying not to float
away.
The most recent, and probably final, time I
smoked pot
Late last year, I was hanging out with a girl I barely knew, and
this girl loved her weed. I had been joking about smoking some with her
for a couple of weeks and one night decided to partake. I was having
some lung issues at the time, so when I inhaled, I coughed up like a
mother. I got tragically stoned and temporarily lost my grip on
reality.
We tried to watch Twin Peaks, which is not a good show for a
novice pot smoker. Not good at all. I didn’t make it past the
opening credits. Those long bass notes in the opening theme freaked me
out.
I felt one of those huge pot-honesty waves rushing over me, so I
just wanted to talk and talk. But I barely knew the girl and
didn’t want to say anything stupid like, “I love your
boobs!” so I kept getting up and leaving her apartment to go for
walks. I probably did that 10 times in a half hour as she texted her
friends about how messed up I was.
Also, this pot tasted awful, and that taste nestled in my lungs and
throat, triggering my gag reflex over and over again. This poor girl
had to sit and watch me quasi-vomit repeatedly in turn with my getting
up and leaving the room all of the time.
Needless to say, she never hung out with me again, and I have hung
up my pot smoking jacket forever.
So, as you can see, I’m probably not the best guy to be
recommending movies to watch while baked. I have heard that John
Cusack’s Better Off Dead is 10 times better when stoned,
so there you go. I can tell you this … stay far away from
Apocalypse Now if you are a novice stoner and a pacifist! You
might very well hurt yourself and loved ones, and the psychological
trauma might stick with you for eternity.
I am a self-professed Marijuana Failure, and I’m not afraid to
say it, no matter how much of a dweeb that makes me.