That's why they call it dope.
Alright kids, gather 'round and listen up, because it's - story time!

This story in particular has all of the qualities that any great story has: drug use, police involvement, and general stupidity. I trust now, that your interest is adequately piqued, and you have all you can do to keep from salivating. No, seriously. Go get a napkin or something. That shit is grossing me out.

That's better.

Now, this was a few years ago, back when I was in college still, and had even fewer responsibilities than I do now. I also had a girlfriend. Said girlfriend - we'll call her Lady - lived in an apartment on campus with 3 other girls. This was the end of exam week, so 2 of the gals had already left and gone home to regale their parents with all these stories of how we were all very responsible and had gotten loads smarter over the last 9 months. So that leaves Lady, other roommate - we'll call her Kay - and myself with this apartment to ourselves, and we were appropriately celebrating the end of the semester. Kay was the drinker out of the group. I may have had a couple, but was for all intents and purposes, sober. I can't honestly recall if Lady had been drinking or not. Doesn't much matter either way. So, anyway, we're all happy that the bullshit is over, and are very much looking forward to a summer of well-mannered frivolity. By lucky happenstance, I had recently acquired about a quarter ounce of pot that was in desperate need of smoking. However, they were getting ready to vacate the apartment, and didn't want it to smell like weed when the people came through for final inspection, so obviously we couldn't smoke there.... (we totally could've. It's a wonder what a bathroom fan and fabreeze can do. But what happened happened.)

After a few minutes of weighing our options and debating with one another about the best course of action, Kay suggests that we go and smoke in her car. Beautiful! So, we gather up the necessaries, and go out to the car in the unfortunately well-lit parking lot outside the building. Well, that just wouldn't do. Kay doesn't want to drive, as she'd been drinking, and Lady doesn't want to drive because ... well, because she's a puss. That's how yours truly got landed with driving duties. Even still, so far, so good. We hop in Biffy, the affectionate epithet Kay had chosen for the vehicle, and I'm speeding us off into the night. I don't want to smoke while I'm driving, so I set the girls to the task of finding us a place to park. We see a bunch of cars parked along the road outside of a house off-campus. It's like 2 in the morning. Guess we're not the only ones celebrating the end of the semester, eh? Well, cool, we'll just park on the side of the road with these other cars and blend in with the crowd. Great idea! So, we park, and I have to pack the bowl, because the other two are utterly worthless and I am their slave, apparently. So we spark it up, and pass it around until it's gone. I say "okay, I'm good, let's go back now." Kay wants to smoke some more. Lady decides to join in. I make them pack their own damn bowl this time. It's starting to hit, so I'm a little edgy, and am increasingly more eager to get back to the homestead and sit down with a movie and a bag of doritos. Is that really so much to ask?

Right as they're about ready to light round 2, we see our friendly neighborhood campus security officer cruise by, obviously scoping out the party. They can't break it up because it's not in their jurisdiction, but they can call in the county sheriffs if anything seems amiss. So far, they're just cruising. So, Kay and Lady finish the job, and we see the campus police make yet another loop around the block. At which point I say screw this, let's get out of here. Unfortunately, neither I, nor any of the other occupants of the vehicle had noticed the droves of people now stumbling their way from the house to all of their parked vehicles on the road. FUCK. Party's over. So, now it looks like we're also leaving the party, even though we were never there in the first place. And then I remember that Biffy has a bum headlight and a taillight housing that Kay had destroyed by backing into a parked car. Fanfuckingtastic. And in my infinite wisdom (that's why they call it dope), I pull out directly behind the cop car, which then turns left, down the same road that I need to use to get back to the apartment, and rather than just go straight and figure out an alternate route, I continue to follow them. They notice the headlight, or lack thereof, pull off to the side and allow me to pass, and then begin to tail me. It's right around this time that the faintest notion of winding up in jail begins to surface in my brain. But still, they're not doing anything, just following me. Not wanting to speed, I'm pretty sure I went 25-30 the whole way. Longest half-mile of my life - or, at least, it felt that way. As some of you may know, marijuana affects the way you perceive time. We finally make it to the parking lot outside the apartment building - woohu! I signal my turn, hit the brakes to slow down, and pull into the lot, at which point the damn blue and red lights rear their ugly head. Abandoning its fairly benign beginnings as a fuzzy notion, jail is suddenly becoming a very real concern. We do the whole pep talk with each other before the cop has time to get to the door. If you've ever been pulled over, you know the drill. Stashed the weed? License and registration? Seatbelts on? Everybody has their IDs? Fuck. I left my wallet upstairs.... not like I was planning on getting pulled over or anything. And we have a quarter sitting under the passenger seat that is technically mine, and I doubt the other 2 would have too much hesitation in throwing me under the bus.

So to recap; we're in Kay's car, which has a bad headlight and a bad taillight. I'm driving. And Lady is the only one who had enough sense to bring her identification. Bloody fucking brilliant. I can already smell the soap on a rope. Officer knocks and I roll down the window. I hand him the registration and insurance info, along with Lady's ID. He asks for the other IDs and I kindly explain that Kay and I forgot ours. He asks for my name so he can go look it up on the computer. Christopher is a really long name, and is difficult to spell when you're stoned - even though I've had it my whole life. Even still, it's pretty common, and I use the normal spelling. My last name is easy, but people tend to overthink it. I don't know how many times I've given someone my name, and they're like "best? How do you spell that?" The same way Noah fucking Webster spells it, you dumbass! Stop making it more difficult than is has to be. It's the worst over the phone. Anyway, he goes and checks his fancy-pants computer for me. He comes back and says he can't find me on the system (probably because my name is so difficult to spell). He asks if I've been drinking tonight. I say nope, haven't had anything to drink. He does the finger test. You know the one (no, not that one). "Keep your eyes on my finger and don't move your head. My head remains stationary as my eyes attempt to burn holes into the most fascinating moving finger I've ever seen. (I was very high at this point. I couldn't not stare at it.) He's like, "well, there's the smell of intoxicants coming from the vehicle." Thankfully Kay pipes up at this point and explains that she'd been drinking, which is why they had me drive. Nice save! I owe you one! After I get done giving Kay mental high fives and having him commend us for being responsible, he lets us off with a warning and gives Kay a repair and report for being lazy in her vehicle maintenance.

I'm still in shock from the whole thing and have so much adrenaline going, I can barely park Biffy and walk inside. We all agree that we can't just go to sleep yet, even though it's 3:30 in the morning at this point. So we decide to watch Finding Nemo. It was a nice comforting familiar sort of movie, which helped calm us down, but every time I've tried watching it since, it's just not the same anymore. Thanks guys for ruining a perfectly good pixar movie and nearly landing me in jail for my efforts.

Next time, we're just smoking in the bathroom. F'realz.

P.S. I wound up having to take a drug test for my summer job like 3 days later. I think I drank about a gallon of water that day. Somehow, I passed.

Stop My Beating Heart