It was the summer of 1995, Pearl Jam's Vitalogy album was just hitting the scene as Waterfalls by TLC and Let her Cry by Hootie and the Blowfish blared out of car radios. There were no cellphones or internet to speak of. It was a simpler time, the year I graduated high school. For the world, and also for me.
Having grown up in the kind of Christian household that included youth groups and mid week services, substances were a big no no. I rarely saw my parents drink alcohol and anything else was extremely taboo. Being a "good girl" I followed the rules and guidelines throughout the teen years and didn't truly begin to question them until nearing the end of my senior year.
But when I started to question...I didn't do it in half measures. So it was with great excitement that I accepted my new friend from Philly's willingness to get myself and a friend high for the first time.
My aunt and uncle owned a cottage on Cayuga Lake, and the best part about it was that they lived 7 hours away and other than two weeks every summer, they only spent time there on the weekends. There was no more perfect spot for teenage experimentation in upstate NY as far as I knew, most had to resort to cornfield parties- which were fun of course, but much less convenient.
So it was there on the deck, the water gently lapping at the retainer wall, that Cameron pulled out a blunt, and taught two novices what a shotgun was.
If you've ever shotgunned off a blunt- sucked the smoke out of one end as the other person blew it into your mouth from the lit side, then you know that it's a great way to get completely wrecked...but not such a great choice for a first time.
Within minutes I was very nearly having an out of body experience- and honestly I think I might have had a good time...if not for Mary. While my experience had me floating away, hers had her locked in tight.
"I can't feel my legs" she cried in abject fear, "I'm paralyzed!" She wailed, nearly inconsolably- anddd the next two hours were spent pouring cold water on her to show her she could still feel, convincing her that it was all in her head and weed couldn't cause that, and basically struggling to sober up to help my friend.
It's funny the things that remain vivid in your mind. I can still feel the light breeze coming off the water, the wood from the deck stairs scratching the back of my thighs. The very slightly musty smell of the cottage from a period of disuse. The way the blinds on the glass sliding door to the front deck were an obstacle to move aside by my frazzled brain. If it weren't for that day in fact, Cameron's face most likely would have faded out of my memory by now, instead I clearly see his dark brown eyes, longish nose, big lips and wide mouth, the goatee that never quite grew in right. The lopsided smile that was his most attractive feature.
I recall the second time I got high being much more fun as it was with a laid back friend of mine- but I don't really remember the details.
Neither of which are the most memorable time, also with Mary ha, but that's a tale for another day.
And that's the story of my first ride on the Mary Jane train, feel free to chime in with your own!