The Story of the Highest I've Ever Been

I started smoking when I was around 15 years old, and this story took place when I was 17, so at this point I had been smoking for around 2 years (mostly only every few weekends, due to school).

During the summer, my friend, who introduced me to trees and had been the only person I'd smoked with up to this point, invited me over to spend the night at his sister's house. I had been friends with this person since fourth grade, so, naturally, I knew his family pretty well, so being at his sister's house wasn't unfamiliar ground. When my friend and I got there, he went right ahead and set up his XBox 360 and T.V., so that we'd have some entertainment to go along with the main course of the night. When he was done with that, him and I were ushered into his sister's room, where we smoked a couple joints with her and her boyfriend, who was supplying them.

This is the point where they let us know that some of their friends were going to be coming over later-on, to which we replied with something along the lines of "Alright, cool". So, the night moves forward a little bit, smoking a joint here and there, and I was starting to feel it. It was at this point when I noticed that my friend had started carving into an empty Arizona tea jug, completely removing about an inch from it's bottom. I asked him what he was doing, and he, being the sly bastard that he is, said with a smirk "Oh, you'll see... ever heard of a gravity bong?" After a brief explanation, I knew things were going to get interesting.

Some of the aforementioned friends started to arrive (now, keep in mind, I was the most recent smoker in this group, being only 17 with 2 tears under my belt among a bunch of 20-somethings) and we decide that it is, in fact, time for my friend's gravity bong. We fill up the bath tub, then the bowl. This was some pretty good stuff, not the best I'd had at this point, but good nonetheless. So, we all gather together in the bathroom, me and my friend, both 17, and around 5 20-somethings, including my friend's sister and boyfriend. My friend, I'll call him "T" from now on, as I'm tired of typing the word "friend", decides "Hey, my buddy here is the youngest, I think HE should have the first go!" Thanks man.

I gently push my way through the small crowd and adorn the position, as directed by T. He lights the bong for me, and instructs me what to do. I inhale. I feckin' DIE. I spin out into a coughing spree, not enough to floor me, but enough to convey a very clear "I'm a bitch" to the entire apartment and the ones adjacent. Thanks man.

I scramble my way out of the bathroom, shying away from the smiles that, honestly, I'm not really sure were actually spread across the faces of those present, sit down at the XBox, and take a big ol' drink. I start playing my game again once I calmed down a bit.

Luckily for my self-esteem, about thirty seconds after I escaped what felt like a beanbag IED to the chest, I hear the violent coughing of one of the more veteran smokers present. After that, there's a small gap in memory, wherein I reportedly just spaced out and played Skyrim for a little while.

After a while, T came over to me, patted me on the shoulder, and said "Hey, we're gonna smoke out on the balcony. You in?" to which I reply "Yeah, sure." I follow him out to the balcony where all 5 adults were already seated, and I take my seat in the pink camping chair next to a friendly-looking pothead whom I swore I'd seen before. I settle in, and, as a joint is lit across the circle from my position, the friendly neighbor pothead turns to me and says "Hey, aren't you [REDACTED]'s little brother?" to which I reply "Yeah, I am." which is met with a "Cool." or some other affirmative-dismissive term.

The next thing I remember, I'm sitting on the other side of the circle, in a much bigger, much more comfortable chair, with 2 people missing from the circle, being passed a lit quarter blunt. I take the thing, get ready to take a puff, but stop and simply say "I think I'm done, guys. Thanks though." after which I pass it along and head inside. That's the last thing that I remember from that night, aside from the fact that I slept like a freakin' rock.

The next day, after returning to T's house with him, he enlightened me that, on the balcony, we had smoked that first joint, then 3 more, then 2 more blunts, then the first 3 quarters of the one that I quit out on. Also, I had out-smoked his sister's boyfriend, who had at least 5 years of experience on me, and one of T's old smoking buddies, who left because he had to throw up.

All-in-all, it was a good night. Thanks man.