Let me start this out by saying I hate weed. Nothing about getting high is fun to me. I get paranoid, I get anxious, and mainly I get stupid as fuck. I’m already rocking that platinum blonde hair, so people do not expect much from me as it is. But in high school I was too cool for the whole “hugs not drugs” concept. I was that annoying ass suburban girl with a pink pipe who would pay $20 for a shitty gram. To be honest I smoked all the time (so I thought), probably because it was more accessible than alcohol. Nowadays, I prefer wine to weed every time. But I was in for a huge fucking surprise the day I found out that edibles are a lot stronger than sharing a bowl with some friends. And what better place to make this discovery than at the public state fair?
I was warned to only eat about a quarter of it, and if it did not hit within an hour, take another quarter. Pretty standard stuff. Except I smoked like, once a week, so my tolerance HAD to be through the roof. I figured it was a good idea to take the whole brownie with me just in case I needed more than half. But of course, I still fully intended on taking it slow, because I’m not an idiot.
Upon arrival to the fair, however, I noticed security at the entrance searching backpacks and throwing out outside food and drinks. To my defense, this was the first time I had seen that rule be enforced. So naturally I panicked. I was at a crossroad. Either I could let them throw out my brownie (at the risk of not getting blitz like I had planned), or stuff the full thing in my mouth and see what happens. After much debate, I figured what the hell and ate it. Big mistake. I’m not going to lie, I felt like a fucking champ. Sure I was high, but I could handle it. With every passing minute I grew more and more confident in my decision. I was eating disgusting American food, flirting with boys to get them to win me a stuffed animal, and riding rides. It was everything I was planning it to be. And then I entered the House of Mirrors.
To this day, I’m still fucking terrified of the House of Mirrors. I do not have enough evidence to prove that it was created by Satan himself, but I’m pretty positive. Everything hit while in that death trap. It was to the point where I was actually worried that there was straight crack in the brownie. I tried to navigate the short maze for over an hour. Which is not that long when considering that the mirrors kept. fucking. moving. I swear, I put my hand out and would still smack my face on something that was not even there.
Eventually, God saved me. I was sent an angel that came into form as a little girl. She was maybe five or six years old, but she was doing a hell of a lot better than I was at that point. I made the decision that this little girl was now my captain, and began following her. But once again, the mirrors started moving. I panicked that I might lose my miniature tour guide, and be stuck in there forever. So I reached out to grab her. Did I mention that my angel had a mom? Because she did, and she was not too happy with me grabbing at her little girl. She swatted my hands away and told me not to touch the angel. As if I was not about to die in there. Ha, no thanks, mom. I reached out for the little girl again, and the mom screamed at me. I was so frightened and apologetic I let them disappear into the maze. Once again leaving me stranded.
I consider myself to be pretty good under high stress situations. It takes a lot for me to lose my cool. But this was the exact minute it happened. I had run out of ideas to escape and frankly my face hurt from crashing into walls for the past hour. So I took initiative and made a strategic retreat. I just fucking sat down and started crying. Like an adult. Eventually I was rescued by security. They literally carried me out, asked if I was okay, and suggested I drink some water. I’m not sure how I did not get kicked out of the fair, but I guess it was more funny than harmful. One thing that did piss me off, however, was when I discovered that my friends all knew what was happening. They saw me cry and laughed instead of helping me. Not that I can really blame them, I would do the same if I were them, after all..
Image via Shutterstock