Insert for "SIN" section

And speaking of libido, there's no better way to enjoy casual sex than to get high before getting laid. Marijuana is one of those evil drugs we've been told to avoid. I tend to believe it does a lot more good than bad. So it must be a sin.

I still remember my first high. I was in high school. One of my best friends, code named Corndoggie, took me down into his basement and shared a joint with me. At first, there was absolutely no effect whatsoever. A few hours passed and we did another. Then Corndoggie turned on “Yes” and plugged me into the head phones. Those first few guitar pings in “Roundabout” blew me away. I had never experienced music this way. It completely filled my head. I was staring at the ceiling but I was completely unaware of any visual input. I actually saw the music. I was not hallucinating. I was imagining all the instruments as they played. My ears were able to pick out each solo and each accompaniment. It was as if I could see every player picking every note. The only thing I can compare it to is the experience of eating ice cream while high.

Corndoggie knew what to do next. Once he was sure I was high. Once he saw the stupid grin on my face and my wide reddening eyes, he slowly took the head phones off my head and said, “Come on. We're gonna get some ice cream.”

I struggled to get the phones back. (like a baby missing his bottle) But Corndoggie reassured me. Don't worry. This is gonna be better than the music. Trust me. And off we went to Dairy Queen. I don't remember how many of us crammed into his car but I do remember getting out of the car and walking up to the door at the DQ. It's an odd thing to remember but just about everyone who has ever been high can empathize. As I walked toward the door, it seemed like we were stuck in slow motion. Every step took a long time. The door just seemed miles away. I finally spoke up, “Hey, this is taking way too long,” I said. Everybody stopped and looked at me. Then they all started laughing. I started laughing. But I had no idea what was funny.

Then Tom said, “Hey Rod, if you'll go back to the car and get my jacket, I'll pay for your ice cream.”

I looked back at the car, which was probably less than 50 yards away. Then I looked back at Tom. I struggled to make a decision. Everyone waited while I thought about it.

“I don't know, Tom,” I said, as seriously as if my decision was life or death. “It's just too far.”

And bingo. Everyone fell out in a fit of laughter. I have no idea how long we stood there and laughed but it seemed like we were drawing attention to ourselves. Tom spoke up. “Look man, you have to learn not to act high when you're high. You have to be cool.”

I stopped to mull this over then I said. “What's the point of being high if you can't act high?” I asked. Then Corndoggie spoke up. “It's okay to act high when nobody can see you. But when you are in public, you have to be cool. People will stare at you.”

I turned to look around and sure enough everyone was staring at me. The people inside the Dairy Queen, the people in the parking lot, my buddies, everyone was staring at me. I suddenly became very uncomfortable. It must have been obvious because Corndoggie said, “Hey man, don't worry about it. We'll take care of you.”

By now, I imagined that every person inside the DQ was staring at us. I imagined what they might be thinking. “Those assholes are high. I'm calling the police.”

We were obviously attracting attention to ourselves. What may have looked like a few teenagers standing outside of DQ having a silly conversation became a dangerous drug conspiracy in my mind. But suddenly we were moving again. I tried to look nonchalant as we strolled up to the counter. I looked up at the menu and tried to make another difficult decision.

After ordering and trying to remain “cool,” our ice cream arrived and we walked to a booth to eat it. The musical experience was still vividly spiraling about in my head when I took the first bite. My expression must have registered the ecstatic sensation because Corndoggie looked at me and put his hand over top of his head. He raised his fingers while hinging his palm on the back of his head, sort of like a beer stein with a swivel top. The metaphor was not lost on me. It was as if the top of my head had just come off in an explosion of pleasure. “My God. This is the best ice cream I ever had in my life,” I said.

Tom was quick to chime in. “Now Rod, all you have to do is learn how to enjoy it without acting high.”

Of course! Makes perfect sense! And utterly impossible.

Later that night they brought me home and we all got out of the car to shoot the breeze. I was still high but beginning to come down. Somebody said something about a turtle and I decided to imitate a turtle. I got down on the ground and crawled around as I began to laugh. Then I flipped over and rolled around as if I was trying to right myself. We were all howling with laughter.

Unbeknownst to us, my 12 year-old sister and her best friend were watching us from the house across the street. The recreation room was ground level and the window was down to let the summer breeze flow through. They could see us clearly because we were directly underneath the street light. We heard them giggle and we stopped to look around but then we fell into laughter again for another minute or so.

That was the first and only time I ever had a good high on marijuana. Although my friends continued to enjoy it for many years, I became terribly paranoid any time I smoked. They eventually learned to pass it around me when the joint came out. They didn't want to be around me when I was paranoid. In fact, I usually turned to suicidal thoughts whenever I did a dooby. So eventually I stopped trying it, but not before I wrecked my grades and lost my job.

I had a job at Burger Queen in Bowling Green. My hair was long and the manager agreed to hire me if I would cut off my hair. I agreed to cut it off but conveniently forgot to do it for weeks. Then one day, I walked in to start my shift and the manager gave me a wig. He told me to go into the bathroom and put it on. He told me he would fire me if I didn't wear it. None of this would have been a big deal if I hadn't smoked a joint before coming in to work. So the idea of putting a dead rat on my head was almost as frightening as it was humiliating.