Still Frames In My Mind
"Green Day" by Green Day
The next event took place on the last Sunday before I turned twenty in September 2009. We had been driving around Winston looking for a good time, but at 9 on a Sunday the pickings were slim.
“Hey, I got it,” Tyler exclaimed as we sat, waiting for his car to fill up on gas. “Let’s go by Phil’s and get you some pot.”
At the time I had never tried the ganja -- but I had kind of made a pact with myself to do all of the stuff teenagers were supposed to do that I hadn’t before the big 2-0 so I agreed. Before we went to Phil’s, we stopped at my house to grab some stuff since I was going to stay at Tyler’s for the night.
Two hours later I was sitting on the front porch of Phil’s with Tyler, Phil and Anne’s older brother, Jeff, all looking expectantly at me as I put the bowl to my lips nervously. “Don’t fucking tell you’re mom,” I commanded to Jeff.
“Okay , plug that hole… okay, now light it up and suck,” Phil instructed. I did as he told me, but nothing happened until he instructed me to unplug the tiny hole on the side of the bowl, then it felt like my insides were on fire. My eyes began to water and I wanted to scream, but the encouragements of “Hold it,” kept me focused. I accidentally swallowed an action that sent me coughing and sputtering my way to the side of the porch. I threw up a bit and then burped a puff of smoke as I slumped against the house.
As I sat there I felt the hands of the guys pulling me back into the circle, offering encouragements to keep going. “You’re a natural,” Phil said giving me a rough pat on the and causing me to cough up more smoke. I smiled weakly, not sure if this was a good thing.
Three bowls, two joints and one attempt from Phil to make out with me (he earned stern words from Tyler and Jeff for that one) we told everyone good-bye and piled into Tyler’s car. “Hang on,” I said, reaching into the back seat for my stuff. I pulled out 1,039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours and popped it into the CD play. Tyler took the long way home so I could enjoy the album.
Once at his house, Tyler set me up in the bathroom so I could wash off the smoke smell. “Are you hungry,” he asked. I replied that I wasn’t really -- a lie, but I didn’t want to bug him. Still, when I came out of the bathroom he had prepared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and was putting some chicken nuggets into the oven.
As I sat on the island stool, eating my sandwich, with Tyler leaning against the other side as we watched a movie in silence I remember thinking I could be content if this was all my life ever amounted to. After our midnight meal we went downstairs to watch some more TV. Every now and then I’d notice Tyler looking my way to make sure I was okay.
“Hey, I got it,” Tyler exclaimed as we sat, waiting for his car to fill up on gas. “Let’s go by Phil’s and get you some pot.”
At the time I had never tried the ganja -- but I had kind of made a pact with myself to do all of the stuff teenagers were supposed to do that I hadn’t before the big 2-0 so I agreed. Before we went to Phil’s, we stopped at my house to grab some stuff since I was going to stay at Tyler’s for the night.
Two hours later I was sitting on the front porch of Phil’s with Tyler, Phil and Anne’s older brother, Jeff, all looking expectantly at me as I put the bowl to my lips nervously. “Don’t fucking tell you’re mom,” I commanded to Jeff.
“Okay , plug that hole… okay, now light it up and suck,” Phil instructed. I did as he told me, but nothing happened until he instructed me to unplug the tiny hole on the side of the bowl, then it felt like my insides were on fire. My eyes began to water and I wanted to scream, but the encouragements of “Hold it,” kept me focused. I accidentally swallowed an action that sent me coughing and sputtering my way to the side of the porch. I threw up a bit and then burped a puff of smoke as I slumped against the house.
As I sat there I felt the hands of the guys pulling me back into the circle, offering encouragements to keep going. “You’re a natural,” Phil said giving me a rough pat on the and causing me to cough up more smoke. I smiled weakly, not sure if this was a good thing.
Three bowls, two joints and one attempt from Phil to make out with me (he earned stern words from Tyler and Jeff for that one) we told everyone good-bye and piled into Tyler’s car. “Hang on,” I said, reaching into the back seat for my stuff. I pulled out 1,039 Smoothed Out Slappy Hours and popped it into the CD play. Tyler took the long way home so I could enjoy the album.
Once at his house, Tyler set me up in the bathroom so I could wash off the smoke smell. “Are you hungry,” he asked. I replied that I wasn’t really -- a lie, but I didn’t want to bug him. Still, when I came out of the bathroom he had prepared a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and was putting some chicken nuggets into the oven.
As I sat on the island stool, eating my sandwich, with Tyler leaning against the other side as we watched a movie in silence I remember thinking I could be content if this was all my life ever amounted to. After our midnight meal we went downstairs to watch some more TV. Every now and then I’d notice Tyler looking my way to make sure I was okay.