Be at a time in your life when doing edibles seemed like a good idea.
Have no plans for the night. Imagine an evening of low-key boredom. Be sitting at your apartment with your friend discussing what you want to do. There’s a party at your friend’s house, but it’s far and might be a costume party. “That might just be too much, you know?”
Fiddle your thumbs some more and then remember that your friend gave you a pot brownie a few weeks ago. Get excited. What a great way to remix the night! Ask your friend if they want to get high. “I have an edible from awhile ago. I haven’t even tried it yet. Oh my god, lets do it. It could be fun. Fuck yeah, lets get hiiiiiiighhhh!!!!!” Your friend agrees and you each split a half. The flavor of the brownie is Cookie Dough Chocolate Surprise but it really just tastes like bits of chocolate just landed on some nugs of weed. Chug water after ingesting.
Don’t really care for weed because it makes you feel fat and lazy, but try hard to enjoy it anyway. Go into each weed experience with optimism and excitement. “I like weed! Right? It can’t be bad. It’s an altered state!” 20 minutes later: “Fuck, I hate weed. I want some nachos. Why am I laughing so hard at The House Bunny? This shit is not funny!” Be confused as to why you have no learning curve with pot. Then remember that it’s because you’re 20-years-old.
Wait around for ten minutes for the high to hit. Get restless and decide to go to the costume party. Take the subway and start to get annoyed at your sobriety. “Do you feel anything yet? Cause I don’t. Fuck.” Your friend shakes their head. “No, dude. I feel so sober. You know, sometimes edibles don’t work.” Resign yourself to the idea that this night might be a bust.
Show up to the party and see so many annoying hipsters dressed like Garth from Wayne’s World AKA just themselves in a blonde wig. Regret even coming. Then it happens. All of a sudden, a tidal wave of stoned washes over you. Look over at your friend and realize they’ve been staring at a blender in the kitchen for five minutes. Call them over to you.
It takes you five minutes to realize that this is no ordinary high. This is some fucked up other level shit. Drunk Garth’s are coming up to you being like, “Yoooo! What’s up?! You guys look weird.” Be unable to speak to them. Just stand there paralyzed at the thought of moving your mouth, and wonder what the hell is happening to you. Are you being possessed? Your friend responds to the drunk Garth, “Um, hi.” and then starts to walk away slowly. Very slowly. Try to follow them but every step you take feels like you’re climbing Mount Everest. It’s just the two of you now running away very slowly while “Party In The USA” plays in the background.
Ask your friend, “Um, what is going on right now? We need to leave.” They look at you with their terrified dilated eyes and say, “Listen, I don’t want to freak you out but I’m really fucking scared right now. Scared.” Attempt to walk down the stairs. Every step you take sounds like a loud clap of thunder though and you have to sit down every five minutes. In that moment, you and your friend look like stoned senior citizen zombies.
You finally make it outside and realize you have no idea where you are. Spend ten minutes standing in petrified silence. Finally, an acquaintance comes up to you to say hello.
“Hey! It’s so good to see you. Are you coming upstairs to the party?”
“Um, okay. Do you like my costume?”
Look at this girl and honest to God, see a wizard. She’s wearing a long white beard and some sort of crazy hat. Yup, she must be a wizard.
“Yeah. You’re like a wizard from Harry Potter.”
“Um, no. I’m Andrew WK!” Your friend storms off in a huff, leaving you with the realization that you’re hallucinating. Is that even possible? Feel like you’ve been drugged with an LSD brownie.
Since both of you are too stoned to use your phone or get on a subway, you try to hail a black car that looks like it might belong to a car service. At a red light, attempt to open the door and have it be met with a terrified scream. Oops. This is not a car service. This is just someone’s car. Back to square one.
It takes twenty minutes of pep talk to get your friend to call her roommate and have them call us a car service. The conversation goes as follows:
Sean, is that you? Listen, something horrible is happening to me and I need you to call me a car because I can’t do it. No more questions. Just know that I’m so scared right now.
The car comes after two minutes or two hours. You’re not sure which. You get dropped off at your apartment and lay in bed feeling like you’re going to die. Take ten minutes to construct a text to your friend that says, “I’m going to die.” When your friend calls you immediately after you send it, scream and turn off your phone. Eat Wheat Thins and feel like you’re going to choke on every single cracker. They feel like knives going down your throat, but they also taste criminally good. Be convinced that this is how you’re going to die: stoned in bed with a Wheat Thin lodged in your throat. Make peace with it. Make peace with the fact that you will die. If you survive, you promise to never eat an edible again. You promise to be honest with yourself about the fact that you hate weed. You promise to live a good honest life and stay away from things that could make you feel bad. Promise.