We started at the beginning, maybe not the very beginning, but close enough. Then we jumped ahead approximately three years, and now we’re going back a couple years. My mind bounces all over the place, why shouldn’t my stories? So grab a snack, grab a beverage and get comfy because we’re traveling back to 1981. Sorry, no DeLorean.
This story actually starts before October. When before October, I can’t remember. It starts with a slumber party to celebrate a friend’s birthday. We did all the normal slumber party things…talked about boys, ate a lot of junk food, watched movies, talked about boys, played Truth-Or-Dare, giggled, talked about boys… normal stuff.
During the party, my friend’s older brother came downstairs to tease us and give his sister her gift. The gift was Pat Benatar’s album Crimes Of Passion and two tickets to the upcoming concert. His girlfriend would drive and chaperone. Everyone was wondering who the birthday girl would choose to go to the concert with her.
Okay, yes, she picked me. She didn’t tell me right away, so I don’t know if I was her first choice or not. We weren’t best friends at the time of the slumber party, but she became my best friend. (This is a different friend than the one I got arrested with. This is also seventh grade) I was very excited! I loved Pat Benatar (who didn’t at that time?!) And I had never been to a concert before.
The concert was on a Saturday night (I looked it up) so I’m guessing that I probably walked to her house before and spent the night after. I don’t remember all the details. Her brother’s girlfriend drove us to the arena (fun fact: if you’ve seen the movie Almost Famous you’ve seen the arena where I saw many, many concerts ) and parked. Brother’s girlfriend then produced a small baggie containing, you guessed it… pot, marijuana, weed, bud, Mary Jane, cannabis… and a bong to smoke it.
I had never tried weed at this point but felt comfortable with my friend and her brother’s girlfriend, plus I knew I wasn’t going home to my parents that night so I was ready to give it a try. I’d never even seen a bong before so I really watched closely so I wouldn’t look like a complete idiot when my turn came.
This was 1981 and all the fancy glassware of today was not available then. The bong was basically an orange plastic cylinder with a black plastic base and a metal bowl sticking out the side. I took it, put my mouth to it and started inhaling (nope, not gonna say sucking) like they did, only it wasn’t working. I didn’t know about the little hole in the back (the carb) that supposed to be covered by your thumb until you pull enough smoke into the cylinder. We got that all sorted out and I made another attempt. Not wanting to fail again, I kept inhaling until I almost burst, then took my thumb off the hole. All that smoke was instantly in my lungs. Too much for a rookie like me. I think I held it for five seconds before I started coughing it out. Brother’s girlfriend smoked some more then we got out of the car to go inside.
(Another picture of a picture. Look at that 13 year old stoner)
I was in a daze, let me tell you. I had never been to a concert and I had never been high, but here I was doing both. I remember time stretching out. I remember that climbing the stairs was very difficult because my legs felt heavy and rubbery. I remember being really glad when we got to our seats. I remember singing and dancing during the show. I remember feeling very dazed. And I don’t remember much else.
That was the first of many, many concerts… I still enjoy going to them now. That was also the first of many, many bong hits… I occasionally smoke still, but I have a beautiful glass bong of my very own.
So, two firsts in one night. What’s next? Here’s the list if you don’t remember.
(featured photo from pixabay)