Pot gummies, Part 2

The Moon Landing: The Final Chapter

Do you guys remember how I tried a pot gummy? And nothing happened to me? Well, I tried again. And still, nothing happened. Finally, though, SOMETHING DID HAPPEN. Please, do not judge me based on the following story. Please DO judge me on the willingness to share it.

So. Last April, I decided to try a 5mg gummy. Nothing happened. Then, I tried 5mg again a few months later. Nothing happened. Then, in late August, I decided “this would be the night” – I would try one final time and KEEP GOING UNTIL I FELT SOMETHING.

First tip: Do not, I repeat, do not, insist on getting high.

Once the kids were all gone for the night, I made Tim go to Lume with me, even as he flat out refused to join me in this wild and senseless pursuit.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

And I told him the truth – because you guys were counting on me.

“They’re waiting for Part 2!” “I need to find out what it’s all about and report back!” “Everyone innocent like me needs a guide, a teacher, a role model!”

Please use the rest of this story to model yourself after anyone but me.

This time I decided to try 10mg gummies. The big ones would definitely do the trick. But, I was scared, so I only ate half of one, and then Tim and I sat on the couch – in an empty house – and watched TV for an hour. With absolutely no effect, per the usual, at 5mg.

“Nothing?” Tim asked.

“NOTHING.”

“Take the other half,” he said.

I felt terror.

“Would that make me a druggie?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he said.

I did it anyway.

Another hour.

“Well?” Tim was looking at me.

“NOTHING.”

I was getting indignant at this point. Cocky, even.

---

“Should I take another quarter?” I asked Tim a while later.

“Sure” he replied, not even looking at me. There was nothing to see, after all.

I set another gummy on the kitchen counter. I assessed it. I cut it in half. Then in half again. I popped a quarter in my mouth. But it was so itty bitty, I couldn’t even chew it. I was tired of getting nothing. So I popped the other quarter in, too.

I realized a moment too late – the gummy wedged in my throat – that I was at a total of 15mg – triple any previous attempt. (I look back now and realize I was doing WEED MATH. The 10mg had obviously affected my cognitive reasoning. You have to be high, to decide you’re not high.)

I was in a panic. I quick texted my expert weed friend: Am I GONNA DIE? I TOOK 15MG!!!

Her immediate reply: IS TIM WITH YOU?

Me: Yes, why?

Her: DID HE TAKE THEM WITH YOU?

Me: No, why?

Tim, meanwhile, flipping through the channels to a new show, unaware of my frantic text exchange.

Her: KANDACE, YOU ARE IN FOR A RIDE. STAY WITH TIM, AND DO NOT GO ANYWHERE.

I looked over at Tim and read him the message – delivered in all caps. He began hooting with glee, and I paced around the kitchen, absolutely terrified.

Then, we sat on the couch and waited.

But still, you guessed it. NOTHING HAPPENED. I was woefully disappointed.

---

Which is about when Nelson showed up with his girlfriend, rather unexpectedly, and texted me from the driveway: “Come out to the pole barn, I want to show you what I got!”

My mom pride was on high alert. How many times had I told them not to do drugs? Now, they were 19 and 21. They had heard about my failed attempts at gummies already and were certain it was a lark, that I would never try again.

I looked at Tim. He looked at me.

“They can NOT know!” I threatened him.

“You’re dead,” he said.

Out to the pole barn we went - down the dirt driveway, through the warm night and into the what-in-the-effin blinding lights of the pole barn are these?

My eyes were pierced with light and the concrete floor flowed like gravy. I let out a little chirp, and Tim looked at me. But I didn’t admit a thing because I was afraid he’d tell the kids. I had somehow turned into a runaway teenager hiding from authorities in my pole barn. I righted myself and clung to him, insisting I was fine.

“Show me what you got, Nelson!” I said, bursting through the door, trying to hurry things along. By then, my heart had started hammering at a rate never before felt. I tried to ignore it, stand straight, and check out his new quad, but it looked the same as any other quad. I played my part with verve: “It’s awesome! I love it! It’s great!”

This is when I noticed I was staring off into space and not even LOOKING at the quad I was loving. Nelson’s girlfriend gave me an inquiring, perhaps concerned look, and I gave her a little innocent laugh and motherly smile, like I was just joking around. If she only knew what an actress she had on her hands.

---

Then. That’s when it happened. There’s no other way to explain it:

I… arrived in the pole barn.

I was gone - and then I was back. Suddenly I was just THERE. I had no idea where I had been, but I was here now, and the landing was rough. I felt panic, nay, TERROR.

WHAT WAS HAPPENING? To this sensible mom of 2 in her pole barn on a random fall night? My body wasn’t mine anymore. I felt I could disappear again at any moment. In fact… had I?

I grabbed Tim by the shoulders and turned him to face me.

“Take me to the house!” I shouted.

I realize now that this was a rather poor transition in the conversation.

He laughed, pried his jacket out of my pot-induced clutches, and turned back to the quad, trying to talk to the kids, ignoring me.

“I’M SERIOUS!” I said.

I grabbed him again. The room did a little wave behind him. I broke into a sweat.

“Mom, what’s wrong?” Nelson asked.

I turned back, and both authorities were looking at me.

I immediately cracked – I never had been good under pressure. BUT. Not without taking Tim down with me.

“Your dad MADE me do gummies!” I shouted.

It was a lie. And he looked at me in shock - but I stared into his soul and denied it without saying another word.

Drugs make you do terrible things.

It didn’t matter what I said then. Everyone in the barn was sputtering and shouting and laughing, but I couldn’t answer any of it. I was NOT laughing. I was waiting for my next interplanetary outing.

“TAKE ME TO THE HOUSE!” I begged and pointed wildly at the door.

“Um… Kandy? The house is the other way.” – this, from Nelson’s girlfriend.

Oh dear.

It was kind of a blur after that. Tim shuttled me back to the house. The girlfriend shouted a good-natured “Have a VERY good night!” and Nelson applied for emancipation papers. I crawled into bed whimpering, while Tim could not stop laughing.

An hour later, I surfaced just long enough to send an apology to Nelson and his girlfriend – and, trying to get back my mom cred – issue a stern warning to “NEVER DO DRUGS.”

Nelson’s only reply: “Bro.”

By morning, I was fine. I had lived. I just slept and felt horrible all night long, in equal parts. But, worst of all, I’d somehow skipped the “chill” part everyone kept telling me about. Maybe - I’ll have to try again.

JUST KIDDING.

#

P.S. If you’re 49 and decide to try gummies, please, do not start by claiming you “must be immune” and “have a hollow leg.” Do not dare utter the words “untouchable.” Be sure to have a weed expert friend (obviously not me) on speed dial that you consult before (not after) you partake. Be sure that your kids are in another state. And do not – and this is key – DO NOT - TRIPLE your dosage in a single night – unless you, too, would like to visit the moon.