Personal Narrative about Smoking Marijuana

Sniffed Out

"All right chief, puff, puff, pass!"

This reminder of smoker’s etiquette attempts to rise from the back seat, but the bumping speakers drown it out. I am in the driver’s seat of my car, floating on a thick cloud of music and smoke. My eyes close, my lungs fill, my head nods and becomes lost inside a hip-hop haze of bass, high hats, and trumpets. Just before Big Boi introduces his “Spottieottiedopaliscious Angel” a hand cuts through the smoke and whacks me in the back of the head. Leaving the music, I turn around, take a huge toke, give the middle finger (all in good fun), and pass the joint to the backseat. For the next twenty minutes my friends and I sit in my car, parked, windows up, seats laid back, and fill every crack and crevice with the sweet smell of marijuana smoke. We aren’t drug dealers or dope fiends. We are just four high school seniors getting prepared for class.

Even though this ritual had been a part of our mornings since sophomore year, it became easier to carry out when the school selected us for the aptly named Joint Enrollment program (some might say we took the name a little too literally). On Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings we attended an English class at the local college before going to school. Our Tuesday and Thursday mornings were completely open. Even the days we had Joint Enrollment allowed us forty minutes of free-time before second period.

The clock flashed 9:20 and three doors promptly opened. Smoke billowed from the car like a shelled out bomb crater. Everyone went to their cars and the caravan to second period commenced. Rubbing my eyes, I turned the ignition, falling into the back of the line.

I came around the curve and pulled into the turning lane leading to sch...

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...ho sang in the choir at my church, was standing at the top of the hill next to the principal, some teachers, and the superintendent. They all watched me with spite. The next day I woke up thinking that I was the same person I was the day before. I thought I was still the kid who was an honor student and multi-sport athlete. I thought I was the same person who had been active in church since he was a kid and was praised by the entire congregation. I thought I was the same person who always looked out for his family and visited his grandparents twice a week. I know that I never quit being this person, but as far as the rest of the community was concerned, he was put to death in the parking lot in front of the high school doors. They immediately forgot about the former me, and replaced him with a deceitful, drug dealing dope fiend. Hey, but at least I didn’t go to jail.