I kinda wanted to tell a story. So here it is.
One fine evening, this past summer - my dad and I went downtown like we usually do on the weekend. We, I believe, were trapped downtown when it started to rain. We went to a restaurant and had some coffee. When the rain let up, we witnessed some sort of parade involving Chinese people. Yes, actual CHINESE people. I do not associate all asians as Chinese. After this, we moved on to the Subway to come home.
At this time we were living at my old house, which had about a 1 km walk to the house. While walking this, we passed a Coffeetime (the Toronto version of any cheep coffee place that is a haven for sketchy characters). My dad squatted down to pick something up that I didn't see. When I inquired, he presented a 1/8 ounce baggy carrying what I judged to be about 1.5 grams of weed. My dad then laughed and continued to say: "What an interesting find". My inner pothead craved that so bad. I then asked what he was going to do with it. After a beat, he said:
"We should dispose of it. Maybe burn it...really slowly..." he adds a smile to the end of that.
My head jumped all over the place...I knew he use to smoke a lot of pot, but I thought he gave it up...and when ever he talked about it with me, he also had a negative view of it.
So we get home, and I drop my stuff downstairs and come up to find him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the baggy. He was obviously contemplating something when we heard a door slam outside: Mom.
He goes to his room, hiding the baggy. As we spent the next 4, 5 hours with my mom, I actually forgot about the pot. But, at approximately 11 at night, I was on my dear mac, like I am now when my dad comes downstairs. He tells me Mom has gone to bed. And then, quote on quote asks me : "Do you want to take the dog for a walk?".
We have no dog. I picked up on this right away. Awkward silence accompanied the first little while of our trek to the park. Until dad started talking about how pot is different now and asked how strong the stuff is. I described as best I could about the genetic engineering of Ganja and such until we reached the park. Two fattys were pre-rolled. My father was obviously a little out of practice. However, we smoked it all, and I believe he thought that was a small amount. Little did he know, he, after likely 20 years without weed only really needed two or three tokes. However, we finished and began our trek back.
The trek back was the brilliant cherry on top of the sundae. First, we emerged onto a street named Echo Valley Rd. This is how I knew my dad was truly High - he looks at the street sign and says something along the lines of: "Its Echo song, are you suppose to Echo back?" Laughs and then says: "ECHO!!" Really loud while facing behind us.
As we were nearing our house, something very odd happened. In my wild ride on multitudes of Mind Altering Substances, I have witnessed many fucked up things. However, on Marijuana, I have never hallucinated. So I hope this was real:
While on a sidewalk Dad and I were walking when all of a sudden, above us, a loud noise of what sounded like animals fighting emerged and we ran, in our paranoid pothead mind sets, we ran in complete fear. Looking back, we saw a very large tree branch covered in leaves, moving back and forth creating the sound of fighting animals. Our hearts pumping, we eventually stopped running and began to speculate what the fuck that was. To this day, I have no Idea.
When we got home, we watched South Park, where I experienced the feeling of falling asleep on the couch, which made me kinda dreamy/half-hallucinate falling into a vortex. I thought it was fuckawesome. After the South park episode, we decided to go to sleep and never, ever talk to mom about it.
I had some pretty wicked dreams that night. I'll likely never ever get to do that again...but it was fucking worth it.
