Ryan showed up and was surprised, saying, “I’ve read about this before, but have never seen one. This is going to be great!” We headed to the backyard; luckily there was a socket out back and the summer night was warm. We waited for the volcano to heat up; taking a couple of minutes, I threw some herbs into the coffee grinder. After a quick buzz I’d maximized the surface area and it was ready for vaporizing.

Throwing it into the heating chamber and placing it on the base of the heating element, I clipped on the second piece, which looked like the chamber but had a clear plastic cooking bag attached to it. Flicking the fan switch, the bag slowly filled with purple haze vapour. As the bag became full, the whole contraption looked like a real life volcano. You know, the rocky mountain that explodes every thousand years killing thousands of people, well aside from the lava and flying rocks.

With the bag filled I attached the mouth piece and inhaled as much as I could, then passed to Ryan. Exhaling, a cloud of vapour rushed passed my lips and into the sky, the vapour that came out wasn’t clear, so I figured it had lots of THC. Someone could get high off of that.

The bag was big enough for four hits, two each. When the round was finished I went through the motions again; this time the cloud was much darker than the first time. We kept hitting and filling, this was a different experience. We’d never hit hot air saturated with THC before.

Before long we were both incredible stoned, the volcano was a different kind of high, coming on slower but hitting much harder. I couldn’t inhale anymore vapour so I leaned back and closed my eyes. Eyes closed, I could see patterns on the back of my eyelids, cycling colours and flickering images. I’d never had a closed eye hallucination before, the images flowed though my mind; they had some sort of order. They were intensifying with every moment and I needed to open them.

I described my experience to Ryan. “I’m having crazy closed eye visuals, funky flowing images. It’s crazy!” Ryan was experiencing the same mind-fuck. “Me to, this is crazy shit!” What? We were both having hallucinations, a possible side effect of marijuana but something neither of us had experienced before.

After getting the highest we’d ever gotten, Ryan said, “It’s one, I’ve got to go to bed. Work in 6 hours.” Laughing I said, “Me too.” Packing up the volcano we headed inside. I hate early sleepless mornings, but usually went to bed this late anyways.

The next night Ryan and I used the Vaporizer again; this was our nightly tradition. By the end of the month I’d gone through an ounce of weed, no worries I’d bought it to smoke it anyways.

Or maybe you should, letting my mom find out about my marijuana habit was eye opening. Parents act open minded, like they want to know what their kids are up to, but when it comes to issues they already have strong opinions about, they are not willing to listen or communicate. This is what I ended up learning in the long term; it’s usually better to leave things unsaid; ignorance is bliss.

Anyhow, since I’d been caught rolling the joint I felt comfortable talking about weed with my mom. She didn’t feel the same, but that was one of the reasons why I’d bought the Vaporizer. Money and opportunity is the root of all success; being caught created opportunity.

I returned home and quickly brought my purchase to my room. Mom was making dinner, it was almost ready and company was on the way. We ate outside, a luxury of the summer.

Later that night I called my fellow weed smoker Ryan. “Come over around 11 so we can blaze, I’ve got something to show you.” He asked, “What?” I said, “Just wait and see, it’ll be a great surprise.” I was excited, this was top of the line, best on the market and no one would expect to see one. I was proud of my purchase; I’m so fly.

I had further plans, as the subway pulled into the mall I headed to the nearest Wal-Mart with the hope of finding a cheap coffee grinder. After all, it would be useful in the preparation of the weed before vaporization. The more surface area, the better the vaporizer worked.

At Wal-Mart I couldn’t find a coffee grinder, which was surprising, they have everything. I decided to go to Canadian Tire instead; Canadian Tire is pretty much the same as Wal-Mart. Knowing they had a small appliances selection, I headed there next.

I went inside quickly and headed directly to the right department, looking around I quickly found the coffee grinders. There were a few to choose from, but I already knew what one I was going to get, it was the cheapest one too; I’d already spend enough money today. The coffee grinder cost ten dollars so I was impressed; after paying, I headed home.

I wasn’t worried about bringing the Vaporizer into the house; I’d gained a lot of confidence since my mother had caught me rolling a joint in my room. I decided that instead of trying to hide what I was doing, I’d just roll with the punches and allow her to see; there was no use in trying to hide it anyways. I was sitting at my desk with the computer turned off and there was nothing on the table to hide my actions. Note to anyone else out there, always try to hide it, don’t make the same mistake I did.

After the favourites hall there was an exhibit called ‘Lines.’ Every piece consisted of at least one line, how original. The art was nothing spectacular, but such is life, especially when it comes to something as subjective as art. You can’t make all the people happy all the time. I noticed a collection of gawkers watching something around a corner. As I got closer I realized they were watching a man and woman roll around on the floor. Sometimes in embrace other times like a tire rolling down a hill or back and forth like a bucket filled with water. It was a bizarre dance and I enjoyed it, but what did it have to do with lines?

After viewing the small collection I returned to the coat check and grabbed my box. As I left a sense of fear filled me; what if someone called the police? What if the police wanted to confiscate and arrest me for possession? Then it hit me; I was being stupid again and didn’t have anything illegal on me. I knew a lot about marijuana and had to look into the Vaporizer to know what I had in my hands. Most people wouldn’t have had a clue as to what was in the box. The box was conspicuous as well; there were no cannabis leaves or symbols to suggest its function.

I left the gallery headed east, not knowing where I was, but having a sense of how to get to where I wanted to be. Randomly I came across another art gallery; it was private and free so I walked in to check out what they had to show. The pieces were a lot more modern, likely created by local emerging artists; regardless I liked it more than the stuff I had to pay to see at the other gallery. I was now satisfied with my downtown adventure and felt it was justifiable to leaving if I wanted to. Walking, I eventually came across a subway station and headed underground.

Walking down the street with the large volcanic box in my hands it became quieter as I came closer to the gallery. Opening a door and walking in, almost instantly an employee tells me, “You’re going to have to check your box.” I’d just spent hundreds of dollars and was already giving it away; I wondered, ‘is it safe to leave it here?’ After a few moments I figured the regular patrons wouldn’t know what it was or what it was for. They’d have no reason to steal it.

I handed the man my box and he handed me my coat check number. Buying a ticket, I entered the miniature gallery, 90% was under construction and closed off. Walking down the single hall there was energy in my stride; art gives me great enjoyment. As a child I wasn’t exposed to it; one of my friends was an artist but that was about it. After discovering art I started to appreciate it and even learned a few names so I could throw them into conversation when needed.

The paintings in the hall were voted the favourites of the members of the gallery. The hall had 20 paintings but clever placement and organization made for an interesting exhibit. Who would pay regular price to see this?

Next morning I asked mom, “Can I drive the car to the subway station?” She asked why, I fibbed and she said, “Sure.” It was Sunday so she didn’t need the car anyways. After driving to the station I grabbed the subway and headed downtown. The trip took well over 40 minutes and most of it was above ground so I got to see the sun. As the train passed over the Don Valley, the magnificent view filled my heart with love. I was happy.

By the time I finally got downtown it was noon. I’d originally planned on grabbing lunch but figured I may run out of time so I decided to make my purchase first. As I walked down Queens Street, the trendy shopping area, I approached the Friendly Stranger. The night before I’d checked the internet and found the Vaporizer to be the same price everywhere. The Friendly Stranger was high class and the most popular head shop in town so I decided to make my purchase there.

I walk through the doors and straight to the back of the store where all the smoking devices were located. Asking the first person I found, “Does this store carry the Volcano? And how much does it cost?” The shop keeper quoted the price I expected and I said, “I’ll take one!” Picking it up she scanned it into the computer and said, “That’ll be $800.” After paying she exclaimed, “Enjoy!”

Deciding to check out the art gallery, I was downtown and had lots of time to spare, I walked down Spadina, the epicentre of china town. Passing the shops, the crowded streets were filled with people picking and prodding at exotic fruits and vegetables.