I love nostalgia like this--

About 3 months ago, our senior high school year ended, and me and approximately 8 other kids met up at a girl's apartment overlooking the beach. 4 girls, 4 guys and we're all reminscing about the year and what not. Suddenly another kid walks in, Ben. Ben has never smoked, and as luck would have it, all of us were about to head down to the beach to pass around a bowl.

I got completely retarded my first time, and since then, I like to ensure that all my friends get blazed as well-- so I showed Ben how to take the hits properly, and every now and then I'd check up on him. Meanwhile, the bowl has been passed around three times, everybody's pretty much a little high... except Ben.

The bowl makes its way around, and now it's been passed five times. I'm pretty high as well as everybody. I ask Ben if he feels any different, even a little bit, and he says no.

The bowl has now made its away around eight to nine times. I'm gone. Everybody broke off into subsections of conversations, and then it hits me... what about Ben? I turn around to see how he's doing... the kid is blasted. He can't keep his head up, he's drooling a little bit, he can't speak-- everybody looks at him, and he just smiles and starts laughing.

By the end of the night, the kid forgot to take his shirt off before going into the pool, initiated conversation with himself and could barely stand for more than a minute.

I cherish those types of moments.