I smoked pot for the first time when I was in the seventh grade. I took a few hits from a pipe on the walk to school. It didn't do anything, but I didn't know better so I thought I was high. I remember thinking that if this was what being high was like, it was definitely overrated. I smoked probably ten more times, each time feeling the same way.

One night my parents went out and I was entrusted with the task of babysitting my brothers and sister. I called my friend Brett to see if he wanted to stop by and smoke a cigarette behind the house. He was over within minutes. My siblings were occupied in front of the TV. They were old enough that they didn't require much supervision, so Brett and I hopped the fence and made ourselves comfortable in the ditch.

We lit cigarettes, and Brett loaded a bowl in a pipe and handed it to me. I lit it and inhaled deeply. I had just recently read in a D.A.R.E class at school that marijuana smoke was "inhaled deeply and held longer in the lungs," so I did what I was taught. Brett hit it and passed it back. We repeated. And repeated. And repeated.

I lay back in the ditch with my arms behind my head and stared at the moon. Suddenly my whole body felt on pins and needles - like when your foot goes to sleep. And the moon seemed to be in 3-D and I could see my face from behind. And I couldn't quit smiling. Like a ton of bricks it hit me - I was stoned out of my mind.

I was obliterated. I began to panic. Without explaining myself I stood up and sprinted full speed back to my house. I don't even know what happened to Brett. Maybe he went home wondering WTF was wrong with his crazy friend. 

I spent the rest of the night hiding in my room and asking my siblings like a broken record what time mom and dad were coming home. I didn't come out a single time to check on them, but shouted from my doorway every ten minutes to see what they were doing. They asked for help making dinner; I refused. They asked me to start a movie for them. I refused. I told them to go to bed early. They did, and when my parents came home at nine o'clock we were all in bed an hour early. 

As adults it was confirmed - my brothers remember the incident and always wondered what the hell was wrong with me that night. They laughed when I finally told them the reason.