I would like to start off by stating that it is blatantly unfair that devotees of one certain substance get an entire official holiday devoted to celebrating their major form of recreation. I will compensate by having my own personal Caffeine Day for all of next week. No, I was not planning to do that anyway.
Given that my expertise for this topic is severely misplaced, I decided that it would be best to consult some veteran smokers in order to give some shred of legitimacy to this endeavor. Although I was able to locate three willing subjects who were "totally about to get seriously high right now omg you should come interview us because that would be sooooo hilarious," I unfortunately didn't get there in time to ask them any questions before they got really seriously high. Given the general disorganization of the interview that followed, I think it might be best if I simply present the events exactly as they occurred
6:05 p.m. I arrive to a secure, undisclosed location, where I am enthusiastically greeted by Subjects A, B and C. They generously offer to smoke me up and suggest that would make the article "epic." I decline, as I am lame, and hope to hold a variety of lame, sell-out jobs in the future. (Dear Google: you are ruining everyone's fun.)
6:07 p.m. After several delays caused by repeated bouts of giggling and the fact that Subject B is wearing a really soft, fleecy sweatshirt that everyone should check out because it feels so soft, I abandon my original plan of asking questions and start recording dialogue instead.
6:08 p.m. Subject A announces that she hasn't said anything yet because she feels "under pressure" to say something really funny that makes it sound like she is "actually, like, a person who is really extremely high." Subject B's proposal that everyone smoke some more "just in case" is unanimously accepted.
6:11 p.m. Subject C decides to go inside to get her sunglasses.
6:18 p.m. Subject C returns sans sunglasses but plus one Super Soaker. Apparently someone "just left it" sitting on a couch inside. After a brief discussion, the trio concludes that this person is "a lamebutt" because Super Soakers are "baller." A brief effort is made to fill the Super Soaker with water. I consider moving my laptop, but quickly determine that there is zero chance of actual mobilization for a real threat.
6:20 p.m. Motion to order food. The debate over where to order food ultimately boils down to a battle between the "nachos are soooooo good" camp and the "but the Chinese place gets here faster" camp. Speed wins out. Subject B opens her computer and informs me that she is "making a sticky note" on her dashboard so that she doesn't forget the order. She informs me that I should "put that in the article." Hi Subject B!
6:23 p.m. Subject B calls, gives her phone number, recites the whole order and then excitedly proclaims "oh wow, I did it!" She then realizes she is still on the line and starts giggling.
6:25 p.m. "Oh my God remember that time that you let me hold [name of my giant round stuffed reindeer] and I was really grateful, Kate? I was so really grateful because I was feeling so emotional and then I hugged [the reindeer] and then everything was so much better." No comment. My reindeer's name is Stanley, if anyone is interested.
6:33 p.m. Subject A declares that she is "so high that I might actually understand you, Kate" because she is now on my "plane or level or like plane that you are on, I think." Discussion of whether or not it is possible to be so baked that you "like actually wrap around and get to the same place as someone who's like, really cracked out" on stimulants ensues. I am repeatedly proposed as a test subject for this theory.
6:40 p.m. Subject B's phone rings, which is promptly followed by three excited screams of "THE FOOD IS HERE." No one gets up. I let the delivery guy in.
6:41 p.m. Eating commences.
6:45 p.m. All food including the three extra sides of duck sauce has been totally decimated. Sitting and staring commences.
6:47 p.m. I decide that I need a cup of coffee. Observation period terminated.
