tallship

A few years back while staying a few days in Joshua Tree with a lady friend of mine, I happened to dab for the first time with one of her sons. They were all a bunch of gamers, three boys and a cousin, always monopolizing the living room with consoles 24/7, surround sound, those shitty fucking game tunes that are constantly repeating, and their friends coming and going. Usually only going when they had to leave for work. Gaming is a rather all consuming passion. I didn't mind though, coz I was busy fucking most of the time. Yeah, that shitty fucking game music. That kinda bothered me. Have I emphasized how much I hate that shitty computer bullshit sounding game music? We spent most of our time in the bedroom but this particular evening it was kind of quiet with only a couple of the boys gaming and I was going to fry up a bunch of potatoes and onions in a skillet for part of supper. I had asked about dabbing before, and witnessed the violent coughing episodes, so didn't really have much desire to go there, but was interested in seeing how blitzed I could be from giving it a shot, and one  of my friends sons offered to load me up one, demonstrating first how to do it correctly with the bubbler, probe, and torch. I had been slicing potatos in the kitchen and loading them into a big stainless salad bowl, and was getting ready to start on the onjions, so this was a good point to take a break and give it a go with my first dab. Well, it was kinda kewl, but then a few seconds later after exhaling I started to experience my lungs burning and started coughing.I had been told to sit on a lazy boy chair for a few minutes afterwards so I didn't crack my head open or anything like that if I passed out, because that can happen sometimes the first few times when it starts to hit you. So I did, and all was well, yah, I got really light-headed and a bit dizzy, then high as a kite, and everything settled in. So I got up and went back into the kitchen thinking, hey aside from whatever kind of serious abuse I'm guilty of just having done to my lungs, this is kinda kewl - One big cloud hit and I'm fucking ripped! And just like that I went back to prepping supper. I'm slicing onjions now with a cleaver and it suddenly occurs to me that I'mma fricken' headrushing big time and I'mma pass out. I'm also barefoot in the kitchen (no pun intended), and I start fading off and saying to myself, "man, you're redding out so you gotta put that cleaver down on the cutting board...." Oh this isn't going to end well, was probably my last thought. Next thing I know, I hear a voice, "I gotcha! I gotcha! You're okay...", and I feel my friend's son's arms wrapped around my chest, under my arms and he's slowly lowering me to the floor. I must have only been out for a few seconds, and the next thoughts that come into my head are me wondering if I've still got all of my toes. As he continued setting me down on the ground I got a chance to see my feet. Sure enough, ten toes! No blood either! So he helped me up after I finished coming too and said, "I told you to chill in the chair for a while, dude!". I thought I had, man was I fucking stoned, lolz. So this is what happened.He looks up from the television while doing the bang bang shoot 'em up game and sees that I'm no longer in the chair. I didn't actually chill there long enough to really come on to the buzz, only until the major coughing fit that made me lightheaded had subsided and I felt really stoned - not nearly as ripped as I was going to be in a few minutes. Figuring I didn't really appreciate the full gravity of just how stoned I was going to be, he walked into the kitchen behind me while I was chopping the onions, saw me start to waver around, and then took the cleaver from my hand as I started to headrush out, and lowered me to the ground. Yah that could have been really G-nar nar. Although that wasn't my only experience dabbing, I've done it not quite ten times, it never was something I was okay with because, man, that shit fucking fucks your lungs, and I wasn't kind to my lungs in the first place and really abused them back in the eighties. I guess it's just not my thing. I don't like the lung burn. And even big bong hits aren't something I go for anymore either - I can take multiple bong hits. I don't need to kill the bowl all in one pass. And I prefer joints anyway. And nobody rolls better joints this side of the Mississippi than me anyway, so there! And I like the taste of freshly dried and trimmed flower. right? There were these trimmigrants down for the season from Oregon one year, and one of them dabbed like 10 or fifteen times a day. One day I asked him if he wanted to burn one with me and he politely declined, and said he'll just do another dab while I smoke my freshly rolled joint. At that point I asked him, "Hey, um... do you, do you actually even get high when you smoke flower?" His response was, I thought, kinda sad. "Nah man, and I kinda miss that". I couldn't see having to pack a bubbler, a metal probe, and torch around with me whereever I went either. a pack of papers and a pack of matches is all I need. Hell! I hardly ever smoke dope anymore myself, so I'm a cheap date. About a month ago I had to run up the mountain and was hanging out on a farm with some friends, old neighbors and such, and they knew I was getting ready to leave so they're trying to pump me to slam a few beers which I was declining because I just don't drink and drive. It had been a couple of hours at least since we had BBQ'd and I had enjoyed a couple of beers, so I wasn't going to drink any more now that I'm kewl to drive. So we're all maybe fifteen of us in this cabin and I mentioned that I hadn't actually gotten stoned since the day we were all had to evacuate from the fires. Welll that was dumb. I'm in a room full of growers and instantly, about 6 or 7 people turn their backs to me, swivelling their chairs around and stuff and dumping out their best bud on the nearest flat surface to twist one up. Oh My Gawd.the joints just kept coming and coming and coming around lolz. I was so fucked up I thought I was Cornholio!!! Everything *would* have been alright when I drove down the mountain, coz it was like a couple of hours after dark, but for some reason there were deer out in force really late that night, and I counted eleven on my way down the mountain, in places you don't usually see them on the side of the road either, mostly fawns, but a few doe's. That was kinda sorta really freaky when you're stoned. But other than that it was all good, and I've always enjoyed going on long drives when I'm stoned. I suppose that was really two trip reports, but one kinda led to the other so it works for me.