At about eleven thirty Friday morning I decided I had waited long enough. Waited long enough to call it a day and waited long enough to dive head first into my taste of medicinal marijuana. I popped the first wax like ball and immediately pierced it with my incisor, allowing the THC gel to shoot and settle onto my tongue. I was told to let it dissolve, so I did. I was also told not to take two, since they were strong, so I did. I swallowed what was left of the capsules, grabbed my bag and slunk around the cubicles to make my escape. In a move I had been prepping for several years by doing progressively less and less work, leaving work early without notice would go almost entirely unnoticed.
The first sip of the first beer that afternoon hit my lips like the first gust of wind hits a newly free man, but as I tipped it back I couldn’t fully enjoy the moment knowing I had better things to come. I waited anxiously and almost to the point of annoyance for the high to take hold as was promised, and as I bellied up to the rapidly crowding bar I began to have my doubts. Before I could convince myself of anything though, the lights and the afternoon entertainment took the stage. I set aside my inner grumblings and anxieties and allowed myself to enjoy the mellow soul that dribbled out of the speakers. After about twenty minutes a cloud started to roll in over the bar and directed itself full force onto my head and made haste to plow immediately through my skull and coursed down through my body. I took a moment to enjoy, not only the new found and sudden high, but my foresight in eating two, once again allowing my over indulgent personality to lead me down the right road. I abandoned the bar, my pulsating body being pulled in by a tractor beam of shitty, watered down 70′s soul. I snaked through the crowd that was leaving with such urgency I thought for a second that maybe this band was opening for Whitesnake. I arrived at the center of the dance floor and began to dazzle the remaining onlookers with a plethora of dances, or perhaps I made their decision to leave that much easier.
When the show let out and the TCH had really dug its nails into me I decided to walk in no particular direction until I was given a sign. That sign came almost immediately and in the form of tight tapered jeans and what appeared to be ruby slippers, it was then I knew the only thing to do was allow the magical shoes to lead me home. Standing in front of me on the line out was invitation enough for me and I stumbled to follow her as she knifed through the crowd, pacing myself a bit once I realized I had nothing to say. I watched and followed her shoes running through a collection of impromptu prose that would no doubt be studied in universities for centuries if I could just get them out, and red shoes would end up in my arms. The latter came quicker than expected as she suddenly stopped at a red light. I did not stop quite as suddenly and immediately saw my chance to woo the young heroin. “You stopped short, those are pretty rad shoes.” Amazingly she was not inspired to strip naked and ravage me on the spot, in fact the look of horror on her face could only be described as the look of a woman who has just been mauled by a 210 lb incapacitated Italian, leading us to part ways, just another story of star crossed lovers.
I stretched out in the cool grass of Rittenhouse Square and went over the events of the day. Looking back fondly on my triumphs and with pain my missteps. I took tedious mental notes on what to do differently the next time I was in this position. “Better make it three next week, better make it three.” I thought to myself before drifting off, allowing the warm summer breeze to kiss my free lips.
