I eventually reached my family; they were seated in the same place they had been when I left; there was still an empty seat for me. I walked toward it and sat down; pulling the latch from the back I laid it flat and took a nap.

After finishing dinner, it was almost 9 o’clock and time to meet Chris. Saying ‘good bye’ I told my father I was meeting a friend at the bar. By the time I reached the bar it was 9:30, I noticed Chris at once and walked toward him. Saying “hello” I told him I was really high before and had to take my time before going back to my parents. Chris insightfully replied, “Yeah, I know what you’re saying; parents can be such a buzz kill, don’t worry about it though, in time you’ll learn to deal with situations like that.”

Chris reached into his back pocket and pulled out another joint “You want to smoke this?” I thought for a moment but already knew the answer; I had never smoked twice in one day but said, “Hmm… Sure, why not!” We headed to the beach; there was no one there, it was too dark for sunbathing. Chris pulled out the joint and lit it, taking a few hits he passed it my way; this time I felt it instantaneously. Chris commented, “I got a whole bunch, more than a quarter, 10 or 11 grams; it only cost $25 too. That’s less than half of the price back home.”

That night I got extremely high and liked it. I smoked many more times, why not? I was on vacation after all. Chris and I hung out for the rest of the week, smoking a joint or two a day.

I was much too high to interact with my family; I needed a little time to come down. Figuring I’d be obvious I decided to walk around the resort for a while. I wanted to experience the high, knowing that setting played an important role. I wanted to avoid all awkwardness and potential for a bad trip.

I was a little hungry so I headed to the lunch buffet; it was still only slightly after 3 pm. When I arrived I was taken aback by all the different foods, everything looked so delicious, but the nachos and salsa stood out most so I grabbed a plate and headed towards them.

Filling my plate, I found a place to sit and started to munch away. The chips were crisp and I could taste the salt, the salsa was scrumptious and I could distinguish the different flavours, tomato, garlic, cilantro, onions and chili, I could taste each ingredient separately; it was fresh and flavourful. When I finished I wanted more, the munchies never go away, but dinner was in only a couple of hours so I didn’t want to spoil my appetite. I got up and left all the delicious food behind.

I was still high but felt enough control to be able to interact with people and not worry about letting it slip that I was incapacitated. I decided to walk along the shore; life would be more sensual this way. Strolling along the sandy beach, close to the water the waves rolled across my legs. I could feel the sand between my toes and under my feet; it was warm and had a rough texture. Mist from the ocean rained against my body; it was cool and the two sensations mixed together perfectly. I could feel the heat from the sun gracing my entire body. I continued to walk, noticing that I was engulfed in my senses, paying more attention to the world than ever before. My senses were prominent and demanded attention, experience was all around me.

I was feeling altered and more aware of everything around me. I thought for a moment, ‘this must be perfect ’set and setting’.’ My mind was calm, calmer than usual and I felt no need to move, I was speechless. There were lots of words flowing through my mind, but I couldn’t say any of them, I was too in awe of the moment. I wanted to sit still and take it all in.

After a few minutes Chris said, “I’ve got to go back to my family, they’ll be wondering where I am.” “True, I should go too.” Chris stood up, opening the sliding glass door and stepped into the cool air conditioned room. I followed behind and closed the door. A new setting, it wasn’t as bright and the temperature had changed, there wasn’t much going on aside from the spinning of the ceiling fan.

Looking at the time it was 3 pm, I watched as Chris opened the drawer that he had pulled the ‘Bob Marley papers’ from; this time he pulled out Clear Eyes. Looking into the mirror he dropped some in each eye and turned to me saying, “Your eyes are really red. If you’re going to see your parents you should put some in, it’ll help.” Taking his advice I walked to the mirror, looking at my reflection, bloodshot eyes and all. My pupils were larger than usual, this must have been why I was able to see more of the world. A few drops in each eye, closing them for 30 seconds and voila clear eyes.

I turned again to look at the clock, it was only 3:03, but it had felt like an eternity to me. Chris walked towards the front door, opening it bright light filled the room, as did the warmth from the Jamaican sun; we stepped out into the real world again.

Walking down the corridor, then down some stairs to a pathway, Chris pointed to the left and said, “My parents are over there.” Thinking for a moment, I remembered my family was in the opposite direction, on the other side of the resort. “I’m over there somewhere” I said while pointing vaguely in their general direction. Chris continued, “We should hang out after dinner, meet me at the main bar around 9:30.” “Sounds good, see you then… Oh and thanks for the weed.” Chris courteously said, “Don’t worry about it. See you later.” We parted and walked in our opposite directions.

We sat down on two chairs. Chris pulled a fancy torch lighter out of his pocket and burnt off the end of the joint, placed it against his lips, lighting it again he inhaled. After a moment he exhaled and the blue smoke flowed past his lips, rising up into the cloudless sky. I could smell the burning herbs; they smelt sweet like fruit loops. Chris passed the blazing joint.

This wasn’t the first time I’d smoked a weed so I figured I knew what to do. Putting it to my lips and taking a deep breath, I quickly exhaled and coughed. Chris suggested, “You’ll need to take in a smaller hit; you can do that by pulling in some air with the smoke. You’ll need to pull the smoke in deeper by taking a second breath after you hit, than hold it a little longer.” I passed the joint back to Chris and thought about what he had suggested; it made sense. Chris took another hit then passed the joint; I did exactly as I was told. This time I didn’t cough, and when I exhaled I could taste the sweet, smooth marijuana as it passed though my lips.

After my second hit I started to notice some changes. Everything seemed to slow down, and a thought would last forever. I become aware of the heat of the sun against my skin and I was more perceptive of everything around me; I was able to relax in the moment.

Chris and I continued the pass the joint back and forth; feeling stoned I said, “I’m getting pretty high.” Chris responded, “Yeah these are good trees, best I’ve had in a while.” Ten minutes later we finished burning the joint; I was the highest I’d ever been so I said, “Wow, I’ve never been this high before, it’s awesome.” Chris asked, “How do you feel?” “Calm, like I haven’t got anything to worry about. I also feel more aware, sort of like I see and understand what is going on around me, it feels peaceful.” He asked another question, “What about time?” “It seems slower, but I really don’t know, there isn’t much around that gives any sense of time.” Chris went on, “Yeah that’s true, wait till we go inside, you’ll notice it then.”

Jamaica is known around the world for two reasons: beaches, oceans, sunsets, the whole vacation honeymoon bullshit, and marijuana. Bob Marley, Rastafarians, Babylon, passing the Dutchie, reggae, dreadlocks, all staples of Jamaican culture. Of course this reputation had nothing to do with my parents choosing this vacation destination, but it was inevitable that it would be part of the experience.

The day after my depressing night I met another Canadian at the resort. His name was Chris, and he was also on vacation with his family. Chris went to Queens University where he studied engineering. He and I made quick friends, as we had common interests in philosophy and the Internet.

Chris had acquired a small piece of marijuana from one of the resort employees; he asked if I wanted to smoke it. I hesitated for a moment. I had smoked marijuana a couple of times but didn’t know much about it. ‘Should I trust this person?’ I was in the mood for something different, so I said, “Sure, why not?”

We went back to Chris’s room; he was evidently prepared, for once we entered the room he walked to the other side and opened a drawer, pulling out a package of rolling papers. The package looked juvenile; it had the traditional Jamaican colours of yellow, black and green and a cartoon Rastafarian. It was suppose to be Bob Marley, they were ‘Bob Marley Papers’ after all, how original.

Chris broke up the weed into a small pile, pulled out a paper, dropped the weed into the crease, and slowly rolled the paper back and forth in his hands. When he finished rolling he meticulously folded the paper inwards, tightening the joint and licking the edge before sealing it closed.

This was the first time I had ever watched someone roll a joint. Chris was a professional and did a great job quite quickly; I figured he was a pot head. Holding the joint in front of my face, Chris asked, “Want to smoke this shit?” Without hesitation I said, “Sure” and we headed out to the balcony. Chris’s room was on the second floor, quite convenient as it provided a good hiding place that was out of view. Plus, on the second floor the pungent smoke would float away, up into the sky far enough so that anyone walking by wouldn’t get a whiff of it.

Everyone went to the show but me; I wasn’t feeling right, so I said good night and headed to my room. Opening the door and walking to the bed I lied down, eyes open, staring at the ceiling. There’s one light on, just enough so that I won’t fall asleep. I spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, motionless, thoughtless, emotionless, an empty shell of a man, lying quietly and alone.

What happened that night, I’ll never know, why I felt that way, what brought it on, still remains a question. That was the way it was, that was how I felt, and that was what happened. I eventually fell asleep; the day was over and a new one was to come in the morning.

Something died in me that night, maybe it was my inhibitions, or the part of me still left over from before I learned about existentialism. Maybe I died and the ‘me’ that exists now is someone else. After this evening I was a different Sandy, a Sandy that came into existence when the old Sandy died. Either way, this was another turning point. Again things were changing, my perspective was shifting and thus the world was changing.

NOTE:

The novel at novelog will be back in two weeks from a break for Christmas and the New Year. There will continue to be posts so keep on checking out the site.