I had to go home.

Every weekend, our town hosts movies or concerts on the beach.

They string up a large sheet for the movies, or have live bands for the music.

Nearly everyone in town will bring a lounge chair or blanket and grab a spot on the beach so they can listen to the music or watch a movie. My friends and I would stop off at the cannabis dispensary on the way in. We had a couple fat pre-roll marijuana cigarettes and a bag of assorted marijuana infused cookies. Even before we were halfway through the concert, I was feeling the three hits I had taken on the pre-roll. I turned it down the next time it was my turn. I didn’t turn down a second or third cookie. By the time the music ended, I knew I was definitely wasted. I could barely walk, and I still had to drive home. My friends offered for me to stay at their house, which was only a short walk away, but I knew I had to go home. They walked me to my car. All of us were giggling and not understanding why we were so high. I wanted to grab another marijuana cookie, but considering I barely got my car unlocked, I didn’t think it was a good idea. I got in my car and suddenly knew how wasted I was. I was paranoid that a police officer had watched me going to the car. I was even more paranoid that a police officer would pull me over. It was the longest mile I had ever driven.

 

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