How I Learned To See Marijuana As Medicine, Not A ‘Drug’

10.05.16 2 years ago 15 Comments

David Pemberton

Is it working? Am I high? I stared at the back of my hands and focused intently. How long has it been? Should I eat more?

I’d only broken off a small bite of brownie, and it had been at least 30 minutes. There was no rush of euphoria, no sense of floating, no fissures running down the periphery of my vision. I was stone cold sober and, even worse, I was bored.

“Don’t eat the whole thing,” my friend Jean warned. “Just relax and give it time.”

I reached across the table and grabbed another piece. The concert was starting soon and I didn’t want to miss out on being on drugs at the show. Maybe I can’t get high, maybe it’s not working, maybe the piece of brownie I ate didn’t have any butter in it. That’s the part that gets you high, right? The butter?

“I’m telling you,” Jean said. “You don’t need any more.”

I shrugged and smiled and checked my watch. “We should leave if we want to get good seats,” I said. And then, like a jackass, I ate the rest of the brownie.

I didn’t feel anything when we left the house. I didn’t feel anything on the way to the show. I didn’t feel anything when we got to the venue. It just doesn’t work, I’m one of those people who just can’t get high. I walked to the bar, ordered a beer, found my seat between Jean and my girlfriend, Sara, and settled in for a good show.

It was a concert that I’d been looking forward to for a long time, and I was excited to be there with my best friend and girlfriend. The opening act was forgettable, inasmuch as I completely forgot who they are and what they sounded like, but it didn’t matter. Is it hot in here? We were standing right behind a metal railing, which was great because it meant that we had something to lean against if we got tired of standing. Everything was perfect. Wait…did I just spill my beer?

And….Blast off!

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