(Marijuana continued)

I was always paranoid when I smoked and I have no idea what I was thinking by smoking a jay before work but there I was staring at the mirror with a wig on my head. It was the most comical looking thing. It looked like a helmet and the bangs went around my forehead like a comb over. Hilarious. But I was so high all I could think about was what people were going to do when they saw that thing on my head. I have no idea how long I stood there staring at myself but it must have been a while because the manager came storming into the bathroom to roust me out.

There was a nice couple ready to be waited on. I asked them what they wanted. It was something simple like a couple of burgers and fries and drinks. But every time I turned around to get their order, I forgot what I was doing. I stared at the shake machine for a while then came back to them and asked them to repeat their order. In the old days, you had to remember the order and add it in your head. It was just too much.

I went to the boss and told him I had to leave. He told me he would fire me if I left. He put me on the grill, hoping I could redeem myself. But I totally screwed that up too. He walked back to the grill and told me in a very low voice that if I could survive the shift without leaving, he would not fire me. I handed him the wig. An old lady in line gasped when I took it off my head. Then I walked outside, grabbed my bike and went home to my dorm.

Nothing good ever became of me when I smoked dope. It just made me paranoid and stupid. And the paranoia often lasted for weeks. I think there is something about weed that triggers depression in some people. In fact, after one particularly nasty episode, I nearly committed suicide. In fact, I actually got into the car and drove downtown to find a building to jump off of. Fortunately, I turned back home again and slept it off.

I went to work the next day and I was scheduled to run camera for a live news feed. I prided myself in being able to set up and shoot in very little time. But this time, I just stood there and stared up at the sky, asking God to show himself to me, to give me a sign. It was snowing and the white flakes fell about me as the chief photographer watched me in astonishment. He ran around like a madman trying to get everything done so that we wouldn't miss our broadcast window. He placed the backpack on me and handed me the camera. All I had to do was point it in the right direction and hold it steady.

When we arrived back at the station he called me back to his desk and asked me if I was alright. I just stared at him. He put his hand on my shoulder and told me to go home. He looked me in the eye as if he were my father and told me he would cover for me. I was struck by his kindness.

I went home and spent a very long night with racing thoughts. But I finally fell asleep and went back to work the next day. It was the last time I ever smoked marijuana. I have never been suicidal since. For me, smoking weed is truly a mortal sin.