Friday, February 5, 2010
I don't think I'd be exaggerating if I were to admit that I was one of the biggest potheads in college. It's true. I had tried weed on and off back in high school but it wasn't until my crazy, sex/beer-filled freshman year that I fell in love with the pure, mellow joys of marijuana
My routine at the time was pretty simple: for each lecture/seminar I would only attend the very first class in order to pick up the syllabus and course schedule, and thereafter only show up for quizzes, midterms, and finals. Aside from a massive 2-week cramming session at the end of each semester, I had virtually the entire academic year to hang out with buddies, be with my girfriend(s?) and, or course, smoke some bud.
I only had one rule: I could smoke as much as I wanted so long as I got As in all my classes. (The irony is that the more I smoked, the easier it was to get those As. Go figure.)
And then came law school and the sudden realization that I was entering a profession with legit rules of ethics and professional responsibility. By that point, weed had lost its luster. Inhaling smoke, of any kind, seemed like an unbelievably stupid thing to do. The spiritual component that had originally drawn me to marijuana had long since been replaced by an urge to party. Suddenly, it made sense to hang up my bong.
Years later, bathed in the light of my trusty laptop, I take a long, smooth drag from a makeshift bong made from an aluminum can. The taste is still sweet. I just want to feel pure and mellow one last time.
Labels: simple stories