Thursday, January 13, 2011
Today, I am feeling rather blah. I'm not smiling. This is no good. So let's hear a random story about me and THC. At the end, I will be cheered up. I promise.
When I was a wee lass of 23, I went to Amsterdam. I went with my bestie friend Sarah and her dumbass pot head brother James. I was a college student at the time, so I was poor as dirt. The tickets to Amsterdam were cheap. It was a January promotion. There were like 7 connecting flights to get there.
Alas- I did not partake in the Mary Jane on that trip. Sadly, I was a good girl.
What I did smoke was Winston Lights. GAWD I LOVED SMOKING!! I had been smoking for about a year at that point. I loved it. It helped me. Those cigarettes loved me. And in Amsterdam I could smoke EVERYWHERE. Like at the supermarket picking out oranges. I smoked with purpose and intent on that trip. I smoked because I knew it was my last week to smoke.
Two weeks prior I had started dating Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall is a militant anti-smoker. I had decided to quit for him. My new love interest of two weeks. And oh, how I loved him from the moment we met. That was like 12 years ago, I still remember the gobsmacking rush of love that came over me. Still does.
Anywho-back to Amsterdam. It was my first European country. I marveled at the cobblestone streets, the ever present bicycles and quaint little shops. Everything was arty and ornamental. It lit my passion for travel. I loved it.
A good time was had by all.
Then the flight home. 18 hours in, one more flight back to my home state. AND HER DUMBASS POT HEAD BROTHER HAD A DIME BAG OF THC ON HIM. I was hallucinating from all the connecting flights, I was beyond reach. And all of us were searched in very private ways and I lost it. Bawled like a baby. Lost touch with reality.
Part of the crying was knowing my bestie wasn't really my bestie. As we traveled on that trip, I learned that I wasn't such a good fit for her. Or she me. But we, Sarah and I, stuck together long enough for her to be my maid of honor at my wedding. But after that we stopped. We'd been besties for 5+ years. Sad really.
When I got to the last airport, at my hometown, I was still hallucinating. I called Mr. Hall, my love of two weeks, to fetch me. I didn't want anything to do with anyone. I just needed someone to pick me up and bring me home.
And he did. He drove so carefully, spoke softly. He poured me into my dorm room bed. He washed my clothes and nursed me back to reality over the next few days. He was so gentle, so kind. So loving and nurting.
He still is.
see now, that's better . . . all fixed!
Labels: i love Mr. Hall