The Second Time I Ate Edibles and Lost My Mind

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Some of you may recall my previous adventures in edibles, where I feared my face was falling off AND my boyfriend was going to jump off our hotel room balcony. I vowed never to try edibles again. Except I did. And I lost my friggin’ mind again.

First, let me say this: Because marijuana is legalized in Colorado, it’s kind of not a big thing. People who don’t smoke or eat weed, smoke or eat weed. It’s like alcohol: easy to buy at stores, at parties, people over the age of 40 enjoy it.

And second, lemme say this: CURRENT AND FUTURE EMPLOYERS, I’M NOT A DRUG USER. COLORADO IS THE DEVIL. IT’S LIKE VEGAS, BUT MUCH PRETTIER.

Ok, so after my last episode, I was like, “Nope. No way. Never again. This is Satan’s bacon.”

But then I was snowshoeing in Breckenridge with my boyfriend and friend, and the friend was like, “Here, just eat 1/3 of this ONE gummy bear. You will be fine.”

And I thought, Sure. I’ll be fine. What the hell can happen on 1/3 of one gummy? 

WELL, A LOT HAPPENS.

Like you see demon cars.

Things were pretty normal for the first three hours after I ate that 1/3 of one gummy. But once I got a full belly of Mexican food, that evil bear worked its evil magic on my system.

My boyfriend was driving us home, and all of a sudden I think I’m having a stroke; my brain begins going in and out of reality. Split-second lapses in thinking.

“So, Death has arrived. Great.” I thought to myself, which triggered a panic attack.

I began reciting the alphabet.

“What are you doing?” Geoff asks.

“I’m doing the alphabet. I’m either having a panic attack or I’m dying. I think I’m dying.”

“Do you want me to pull over?”

“No. I’m just going to close my eyes for a little bit.”

For some reason that was fucking hysterical. Closing my eyes became the funniest thing on the planet.

“You’re high!” both Geoff and our friend Nic shouted at once.

“I’m not so sure. I could be having a stroke.”

“You don’t look like you’re having a stroke,” Geoff says. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I may look like I’m having a good time….but…uh….uh…” What were we just talking about? “I may look like I’m laughing….but…uh….I’m actually encased in fear.”

“Encased in fear?”

“Yes. I just saw a demon car go by.”

“What’s a demon car?”

“It looked like the uh….” What the hell did it look like? “It looked like Fantasia. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

I couldn’t stop laughing, but deep down I was still convinced that I was dying. Though my brain and body were trying to relax, my anxiety tried fighting the effects of the weed with all its might.

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“Can you hand me that mint from dinner?” Geoff asks.

Suddenly, I become terrified. No, Geoff cannot have a mint. Geoff will choke on the mint and die.

“NO! You cannot have a mint. You will choke on the mint and die.”

“What? No I won’t.”

Reluctantly, I handed him the mint. “Be careful.”

My brain continued to weave in and out of time, unsure what just happened and what was currently happening.

“Look at the plane trail next to the moon,” Geoff points out. “It looks pretty.”

It was a bright night, the snow and full moon lighting up the sky.

“Baby, that’s not a plane trail- that’s a moon trail.”

“What’s a moon trail?”

Pft. What’s a moon trail? 

“Babe, it’s a moon trail because our reality has turned into a camera with a low shutter speed.”

Oh, that’s fucking funny. Why can’t I stop laughing?! END OF DAYS IS HERE. I’M DYING. WE ARE ALL DYING.

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The 90-minute drive back to Denver continued on like this, and thankfully- THANK THE GODS AND THE EARTH AND THE MOON FAIRIES- the edible wore off by the time we got home. Unlike the last time, where I continued to stay high well into the next day, and where I had to have adult conversations with people, but my brain was mostly like “DeeeerrrrrrPIZZA!”

So what did I learn? I learned that ONCE AGAIN, I cannot eat edibles. Even 1/3 of ONE gummy.

Hold me accountable, everyone. MAKE SURE I DON’T DO THIS AGAIN.

PLEASE.

I’M BEGGING YOU.