My Mom Made Me Start Smoking Pot

We were having dinner with some friends the other night and the subject of smoking marijuana came up. Bubala, of course, said that he didn't. (He's a real straight edge homo!) Then, everyone looked at me and, of course, I remained ever silent on the whole issue. I have learned that sometimes, in certain company, (not the company that we were with though) saying that you are a pot smoker is like saying that you rape little children. Anyway, isn't it obvious by my blatant Cheech and Chong sense of decorum? Don't I, like, talk like Bill and Ted, dude? Don't I make it a hobby to take off my sneakers and bang myself on the head a'la Jeff Spicoli?

Hold on... Let me go do a few peppermint bong hits and I'll be back to tell you a story that dates back 27 years ago to this very week.

(Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle... excess smoke fills the room with a pungent aromatic fog... Ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa... Cough, cough, cough!)

The Late 70's

I was still in elementary school and already my interests were very centered on music. From my basement bedroom, the sounds of Kiss, Aerosmith, Led Zeppelin and other rockers were constantly being blasted much to the rest of my families dismay. I had discovered this music on my own. No M-TV, no older siblings telling me what was cool. And, it was very cool at the time. Especially if you were only 10 years old.

Sometimes, my favorite bands would come around on tour and play at the nearby Capitol Center arena. It was only 20 minutes from our home and the tickets were all always under $10. So, when the bands came around, I would beg my folks to let me go see them and the answer was always "NO! You're not old enough to be in that kind of crowd by yourself and I'm certainly not going to take you." My response was always, "What is so bad about the crowd?" I just wanted see Steven Tyler. I couldn't care less about who else was there or what they were doing. But, every year when my favorite bands would stop by, the same thing would happen. I was starting to get pissed off! I missed a lot of great shows. Thanks Mom!

Making matters worse, my older sister started going and seeing her favorite bands in concert. (Fleetwood Mac and The Eagles.) She'd come back and tell me how awesome it was and she'd also tell my Mom about the people who were there and how they smoked pot right there in their seats. More ammunition for my mom to justify not allowing me to go to my concerts. (Thanks Sis!)

Finally, when I reached Junior High School, I decided that the first thing I needed to do was to find one of the older kids that smoked pot and tell them that I wanted to try it. I wanted none of this peer pressure BS. This was an aggressive act on my behalf so I would be able to see my concerts. I figured that if I just started smoking pot, I could tell my mom that I already smoked pot, so there was no reason to keep me from going to the upcoming Led Zeppelin concert. Right? After all, if Jimmy Page smoked pot, I should at least try it, right?

So, I started pretending at school that I was a cool stoner guy and that I got high on a regular basis. My rock star training had begun already and it just fit in well to act like I was stoned all the time even though I had never even tried marijuana at this point in my life. Eventually, my plan to get stoned worked. My friend Tammy, who had a crush on me, told me that her sister got high and that I should come home with her and catch a buzz. So, on March 1, 1980, one week before my 13th birthday, I went home with Tammy. Her sister, Laurie, turned us on to smoking some bowls and we also did some bongs. (I had always wondered how you actually did them.) We got, as they say in stoner talk, all fucked up.

I remember sitting on their front porch alone because they had both gone inside for some drinks. (Cotton mouth!) I drifted off into my mind, blanking out of consciousness. When I finally snapped out of it, I realized that I had been singing. Just making up the words as I went along and improvising a melody. I kind of liked that. Now I knew why all my favorite rock stars did it.

That spring, there was much trauma at home when my parents found out, much to their disappointment, that I was smoking pot. No, I didn't just go up to them and say, "Guess what I did today, Mom? Bongs!" The music from the basement just got louder and weirder. My plan had worked though, and on July 13, 1980, I was allowed to go see my first Capitol Center concert. Ted Nugent, The Scorpions and Def Leppard. It was loud and crazy and general admission. Terrible Ted blew out the power, so we smoked pot and watched him play Frisbee and grab himself while wearing only a loin cloth until the power was restored. Even though I now think that Ted Nugent is a terrible, homophobic, animal killing, womanizing, Republican asshole, I didn't know that at the age of 13. I loved every minute of his show, even though it was a little scary at the time.

My plan had worked! As time went by, Mary Jane and I would become very good friends. We did take a three year break in the early 90's only to discover that, in this increasingly crazy and fucked up world where people come and go so quickly, it's nice to know that there is always a big old bowl of herbage there for you to hit and another concert to mark the good times in life.

No Seeds - No Stems!

Thanks Mom. You're the best!