I love learning about new things. I love figuring out parts of the world I never knew existed before. I loved learning about cannabis, the plant, the history, the culture.

I'm obsessive. I jump from hobby to hobby, interest to interest, and devote myself to it night and day until I lose interest.

I don't really know what got me started. I'm not very social, so I never went to parties and didn't really fit right into a group. I would only hang out with one other person usually.

It was probably when someone I met offered to smoke with me. I had seen all the clues before: a bong here, some people high there. But it was fascinating to see someone pull out a glass pipe, find a nice little spot in the trees, and blow out that large, pungent cloud of smoke. I thought I would try it, but changed my mind that time.

I forgot about it, but it opened me up a little bit to the world. I got preoccupied with work and life.

I was interested in the plant. The War on Drugs. The chemistry. The tactics of the different sides, cops and dealers. National differences, Canada and Amsterdam. The whole culture. The taboo of the word "marijuana." The size of the whole issue I had ignored before.

Fast forward to 2 weeks ago. I had gone through great pains to get some bud. I spent many dollars on accessories. It was so cool. I entertained my fantasies of being a cannabis advocate and marijuana connoisseur. I visited hemp stores. I sought out glimpses into the forbidden realm of drugs, from items in retail stores to people on the street.

Everything was set up perfectly. I knew everything. I knew I would love this holy herb. It had made me bold and adventurous already. I loved what it had done for me, and I hadn't even tried it. It made me not scared to be different and have my own opinion.

I heard the first time high is awesome. This was just the start of a new life, or so I made it out to be. I made a pact to not try it alone. I would find a friend that would be interested in chilling and enjoying the plant.

I found someone. It was exciting. The opportunity came, he showed me his stash, he had lower quality stuff, I had chronic. I showed him my toys I had invested in, enough to prove me a pothead, but I hadn't even taken a puff.

We talked about MJ, set up chairs, set up a table, got out the gear, and the required glasses of water. We had some fruit.

Then we started our session. Ground up some of the dank stuff. Vaporized one bowl. Didn't feel much at all. I heard the effects were subtle, but I also heard that the first time you got high you would know it. It was easier to laugh, but I didn't notice much else. We packed and vap'ed the next bowl. We were having trouble working the vaporizer. But when we could see and taste the vapor air, we knew it was working.

I wasn't feeling much at all. I knew it hadn't hit me. He had more experience, so I asked him how he was feeling. He said he was feeling something, but I thought he was just being nice. I pressed him and he admitted he wasn't stoned.

It was getting later, but I was determined to have this work. I had planned everything and I was goddamn well getting stoned. Why the hell didn't it work?

(In hindsight, I realized we used different weed to vaporize. When I had trouble finding weed, a friend gave me one bowl that had been sitting in his car for god knows how long. Subject to improper storage and extreme temperatures, I conclude it had lost all its potency. We should have used the real, fresh, potent stuff I bought.)

Firecrackers. I convinced him that I knew a simple and reliable way to cook cannabis. I knew all the culinary pitfalls, I had done so much research. He had tried cooking on his own to no avail, but he had also had special brownies that definitely worked. It was late and he knew the high would last a long time, but I insisted that it would be fine. We headed to the grocery store. Saltine crackers and organic peanut butter, check!

We ground up about a gram of chronic and made four crackers. We each ate one. So we had .2-.3 grams of bud.

I had no idea it could be so powerful. After he left is when I ended up having the worst experience of my life. It was most definitely a bad trip.

Afterwards, I had a greater appreciation for life and normality. I guess it's not for everyone.

I wasn't silly enough to thrown everything out, but I knew I may never try drugs again. The smell of weed, before curious, now makes me nauseous. I now have some sort of loathing towards the herb.

And people said it was enjoyable, relaxing, enlightening...
I don't know what to believe anymore.
Snorbel Reviewed by Snorbel on . Tried Cannabis, Bad Experience I love learning about new things. I love figuring out parts of the world I never knew existed before. I loved learning about cannabis, the plant, the history, the culture. I'm obsessive. I jump from hobby to hobby, interest to interest, and devote myself to it night and day until I lose interest. I don't really know what got me started. I'm not very social, so I never went to parties and didn't really fit right into a group. I would only hang out with one other person usually. It was Rating: 5