AI: Dubious Evening Adventures

It had gotten substantially colder, so I put the hood of my sweatshirt on, fearing and loathing of the coming winter months. I loved the sweatshirt. I’ve had it since my freshman year of high school, and it never fails to serve its purpose of keeping me warm on an autumn evening. We’re confined to these annoying smoker’s tables, and aren’t allowed to smoke elsewhere, or dormitory staff will get shitty with us, and probably write us up. Obviously it would be worse with weed. So I proceed to the smoker’s tables. By tables, I mean a single table, which is raunchy, and has a terrible and distinctive odor of burnt, stale tobacco, as no one ever bothers to dispose of their cigarettes properly, thus the table is covered in ashes, butts, etc. I hate this, so much, and yet even I’m guilty of ashing my cigarettes on the table, usually because I’m inebriated. I see Luke and Matt seated at the table, talking to each other. Luke is packing his piece.

“Yo dudes.” I say.

“Hey Addison.” Matt replies. I grab a seat, filling the table so that none of us are sitting directly next to each other.

“You finish your Finite?” Luke asks.

“Hell no.” I sarcastically insinuate in a positive tone. “I wonder if I can finish it afterwards…”

“Yeah, sure, man.” Matt chuckles, “What are you smoking?”

“Oh, they’re cloves. Want one? Luke, you want one?”

“Oh man, are those blacks? Man those are blacks. I can’t smoke that shit. They’re so bad for you.” He proceeds to start his own cigarette, a Marlboro Blend No. 27.

“Oh Matt, you’re so conscious about your health…” I sarcastically joke.
Matt declines my offer, but Luke eagerly accepts. It IS his weed…

Luke finishes packing, and lights up. Flick, flick, and then a flame. I smell it, that familiar and warming odor of a plant. An illegal plant. Its scent made me long for it. It was such a gracious thing as well, since it was Luke’s piece and weed.

“Matt…Matt” Luke calls out, attempting to hand the piece over to him. Matt takes it: Flick, flick, and then a flame. Smelling it was intoxicating. I smelled the cold, clean air, comparing it to the warmth and aroma of the burning substance. She was so sweet.

“Addison.” I look up, and Matt is passing it to me. It’s warm to touch, and quite appealing to hold. Flick, flick, and then a flame. I inhale, bathing the weed in my flame, sucking up every last part of it. My throat hurt. I was probably getting sick. It burned, from the sheer amount of weed that I inhaled. I tasted the weed in my mouth. So familiar, and so friendly.

I lost track of time afterwards. It was probably 11:30 when I got out there. I checked my watch again, and it was 2:30. The three of us had proceeded to share three bowls together, but with an asinine amount of interruptions, ranging from students who were not very friendly to the users of marijuana, to students who simply mooched without ever chipping in elsewhere. At one point, I had grown so accustomed to the scent of weed, and it just absolutely dazzled me to smell honey, and clove. Oh right, I had given Luke another clove. I couldn’t help but think of such a scent, as though it were like Honey Nut Cheerios, though for careless adults. When Matt would smoke a regular cigarette, I couldn’t help but feel old and dirty, like the conception that I made of the elderly who would smoke. Maybe it was just that his cigarettes weren’t distinctively flavored as mine were. I wasn’t enjoying the cold. That I only had a sweatshirt bothered me to no end. Shit! I had to meet with my AI tomorrow at 11am to discuss a paper that was due the following week. If I ever wanted to function tomorrow, I had to go to bed now. I bade farewell to Luke and Matt, and thanking Luke for smoking me out, and went back inside. I wasn’t even tired, so perhaps this was just asinine to smoke late in the evening, only to plan to sleep immediately afterwards.