Going Potty

I've been meaning to blog about this earlier but work has just been insane today. Honestly, it's not the work that bothers me. It's the people that I need to deal with who usually drive me to want to pick up the nearest sharp implement and stab them with it. Anyway... let's get on with it.

I've never been one to do drugs. It boils down to a few simple reasons:
1. I live in Singapore and basically being caught in possession of your own children here could sometimes land your ass in jail.
2. Even if I did get hold of something I wanted to try, I wouldn't quite know the proper 'procedure' so to speak of 'consumption' (Yes, I'm that vanilla).
3. Why do I need drugs when cigarettes and alcohol can be consumed in copious amounts legally?
4. I live in fear that my own mother would throw my ass in jail if she ever caught me with a prohibited substance that didn't come out of my doctor's office.

As a result last weekend's experiment with marijuana/weed/hemp/pot/cannabis/ganja (seriously, how many damn names does that thing have?) was quite interesting to say the least. It was not the first time I had smoked the stuff so I sort of knew what was happening. The whole preparation aspect of it has always amused me. I have seen former potheads, argue with current and in-remand potheads on the correct method of rolling a joint and honestly, I don't think there's a set way of doing it. Think about it, if you had big hands, you'd probably end up rolling a fatter spliff because you'd pick up more tobacco with your fingers. But the relativity of one's hand size in relation to joint-rolling is a conversation for another day.

The first couple of instances that I encountered weed, I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Had it not been for those in the know, I would have probably munched on the bloody produce. The virgin attempt to enjoy the psychoactive substance was outside a club with one very drunk female friend. I distinctly remember having one of those nights out where every progressive drink just makes you more and more sober. Sadly, I could not say the same for my girlfriend. In the attempt to help me enjoy my night, she shared her joint with me. And it had absolutely zero effect. I can safely tell you that I felt nothing because I was sober enough to remember everything. What an absolute bummer. It's kind of like meeting a guy you really, really like and then realizing that he is absolute shite in bed. (In case you were wondering, that HAS happened to me too.)

My second attempt was with the ex boyfriend and a couple of other friends. This time there was a physical reaction. Nausea. All I wanted to do was throw up and I remember only taking a few drags. The lingering smell in the apartment kept making my stomach heave and it did not help that my friends and the ex were getting stoned out of their minds, demanding for repeated rounds of Sara Lee chocolate pound cake, which I faithfully fetched for them. I even had to wash the dishes. Absolute buggery.

Hence, when presented with the opportunity to try again last weekend, I didn't quite jump at the chance. I was a bit apprehensive about the side-effects or rather, the expected effects on my body. I had been drinking since about 4 in the afternoon and 4 beers on a hot day with an empty stomach certainly clouds one's judgment. So when the joint came my way, I didn't turn it away. I had a few small drags, handed said spliff to next person and carried on watching the television. Didn't feel much physically so I just sat and kept skulling water because I suddenly felt really, really, thirsty and also, I didn't want to be plastered before dinner.

Second spliff appeared about half hour later and this one was way stronger than the first because every drag felt thick and heavy and tasted (to me), like coffee for some reason. This time, after a few minutes I started feeling the 'expected' effects. My body was slowing down, I felt relaxed, still thirsty as hell for some reason but I felt calmer, less inclined to want to talk (slur), and things seemed brighter. Now, while all of this was happening, one part of my brain was making mental notes. I was conducting an experiment on myself and yet ironically still could keep enough of my mental faculties together.

What I did not expect was how hard the high hit me. Maybe it was because it was the first time my body was experiencing the drug in full capacity so when it hit, it felt absolutely bizarre. My eyes were wide open, lights seemed harsher and my brain was clearly awake but obviously not up to its usual fantastic self because I struggled to keep my psychomotor skills in check. I can quite honestly admit that my body felt liked it weighed a ton and my legs were moving out of pure instinct to get from point A to the dinner location, which for some reason, seemed like it involved a lot of crossing of roads.

Dinner was another episode altogether. I attacked the bread basket. Go ahead, laugh. After I had taken the first bite of bread, it felt like my saliva glands had been resurrected and I instantaneously attacked everything in sight. One particular dinner companion realized that I had a serious bout of the munchies and started laughing insanely. And there was more water. Bread and water. Never have I drunk so much water in one sitting. Even after I've finished a 6km run, I don't pour that much water down my throat. That night however, I was like a dehydrated nomad in a desert. All I wanted was water, And more bread. And ooh, let us have a tagiatelle Ragu pasta dish while we're at it please?

So I attacked the bread, glugged my water, scoffed my pasta down and then poured a cappuccino down my gullet in an attempt to stay awake. At this point, I was still floating and quite high. I also felt immensely tired. I wanted to lie down on the pavement and sleep. And I would have done just that if Spooner didn't pull me out of my chair and make me walk. Back at the apartment, I remember curling up on the sofa watching the Gorillaz's DVD of their performance at Manchester. Did I ever tell you that I think Demon Days is one of the best albums ever made? Well, there you go, I've said it. I don't remember falling asleep although Spooner claims I fell asleep on him but I woke up in bed the next morning (no hangover, result!) and I felt more or less human so I guess that was really the end of my narcotic adventure.

Not very exciting huh? Yeah, I thought so too but it was interesting to say the least. At least now I know why people choose to do it. I'm not saying that smoking pot is something I intend to start doing on a regular basis. It's just that I now have a clearer understanding of some people fall prey to wanting to get high repeatedly. Marijuana is both a stimulant and a depressant at the same time. Technically, this means that it slows one part of your brain down, usually the area that controls your psychomotor skills and then stimulates a different section which explains why lights and sounds seem way brighter and louder when one is under the influence. The drug is also known to be a hallucinogen which explains why some people have diminished levels of concentration and may tell you the same joke again and again and laugh at it repeatedly if they've been smoking pot. As for me, I just felt that Damon Albarn is an effing genius and that I had a special kinship with him. Thereafter, I am pretty sure, I fell asleep.