This is the story of when I got so goddamn high, I called the police on myself.
Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Peter... ahem, I mean Jeter and I had smoked pot together a few times before that infamous day in June. We'd even bought a nice bag of Oregano and smoked that together as well. We were amateurs all the way.
So my good friend Nathan... ahem I mean, fuck it... his name was Nathan, told Jeter and I that he had two joints available for purchase, so we sprung into action and bought both of them.
There was this pond in my neighborhood growing up. Not a pond you could swim in; that would have been cool. No, this pond was a piece of shit. It was small, rocky along the edge and polluted to the point the EPA should have been notified. So, logically, we decided to go there to get high.
We shared the first joint, smoking it slow and savoring every last puff. I could tell I was high, nothing crazy but the two of us chilled by the water and laughed. I'd say it was about 20 minutes after that first joint was finished that I decided that Jeter was NOT going to get his dirty meat hooks on that second joint. I lit it and smoked in long glorious drags as my friend begged me to share. No way jerky, this ones mine! All mine.
I didn't really notice anything was particularly wrong at first. We'd both decided that we should walk back towards home. During the walk (I couldn't tell you how far we'd gotten) I began to notice Jeter's voice change.
Turn on your radio and turn the volume up and all the way down over and over and over and see how long it takes before your brain wants to explode. He wouldn't shut up!
"HeeeeeeYYYY, ShhhAAAAwwwnnnn" I looked over at him and his face was morphed, like he'd had water thrown onto his wax face. I remember telling him to shut the hell up several times but he had no idea what was going on and just laughed and talked louder.
"HeeeeeEEEEEyyyyyy WwwwwHHHHaaaaaTTT AAAAArrrrrrrrEEEE YOU DooooooooIIIIINNNG"
Oh my god! To say I was freaking out would be the understatement of the year.
Somehow I lost Jeter and next thing I know, I am walking around the pond of death by myself, attempting to avoid the falling trees from the embankment above me. Imagine if you will a 16 year old kid flailing his arms in the air for no good reason. I could hear my heart beating in my head and I felt I couldn't breathe.
Worst of all? I was thirsty and I'd be damned if water were denied to me. I remember being by the ponds edge and heaving handfuls of polluted water down my throat. I also remember as I am doing this seeing a washing machine about 5 feet off the shore sticking out of the water. Oh well... <gulp, gulp, gulp>
My belly full... of god knows what, I go on my way. To where, I couldn't tell you. I was alone and thought I was dying. I somehow made it back to the dirt road which led to the pond, my heart pounding and my head swimming. Suddenly a car pulls up beside me.
Tommy T wasn't your normal resident neighborhood drug addict. Oh no. He was worse. And he hated me.
Just the winter before, Tommy had asked me to hold onto his class ring while he played hockey on the very pond I had just come from. I grew bored and left his ring on the side of the frozen water and left. Next day was warm, the water melted and Tommy came looking for me. I just hid really well.
So seeing him pulling up next to me, with one of his equally scary looking friends you'd expect for him to either murder me or beat me severely. He did neither. What he did do was say this.
"What the hell are you on" followed quickly by "You idiot, you're on acid" then "Get in the car"
Getting in that car on any other day was a death sentence but not that day. This was Tommy freaking T, and if he said I was high and he was worried then you bet your ass I'm going with him.
So they drive me to this random dudes house (which lucky for me was in my neighborhood) and we all get out of the car and go inside. My heart at this point is basically a baseball bat against my chest. Tommy tells me that I should stay there to calm down for a while and they leave me in the kitchen. The first thing I see is that glorious, wonderful kitchen sink. The kitchen sink that will provide me with none other than H2O. I turn on the tap and stick my face into it and guzzle. When I tell you I drank a gallon and a half, it was probably more. The two of them came back and asked what the hell I was doing. They're voices now sounded strange just like Peter's... I mean Jeter's. "WhhhAAAttt ThhhhhhhEEEE HeeeeeeeLLLLLL"
"I have to go" I said to them. I left and somehow find my way home.
First thing I do when I get home is shower, thinking that a cold shower will somehow make me snap out of it. BAD DECISION! It made it worse. Every drip from the shower sounded like an IED had just gone off.
I get out of the shower and try my best to calm the f down. I'd been high before, why was this time so different? It made no sense. Now mind you this is before the days of Google. It wasn't like I could search, "What the ever loving hell is wrong with me?"
So I did the next best, logical thing. I called the police.
"Plymouth Police, this call is being recorded" SHIT! I hang up the phone. The phone of course immediately rings again.
"This is the Plymouth Police, we just received a call from this number" I pause.
"Is there an emergency?"
"I don't know"
"DO YOU NEED HELP" There we go! YES! I need help.
"What's it feel like to be high" I asked the officer.
"Do you need us to send someone?"
"Sure" We hung up the phone.
A cop car and an ambulance soon arrive at my parents house. Lucky for me, no one was home. They enter the house and check me out, the cops ask me what happened, I tell them.
"Where'd you get the pot from?"
Now to this day, I will never understand this moment. Here I was, dying in front of these people, they ask me where I got the pot from and viola!! Moment of clarity. I TOLD THEM EVERYTHING! I was like Chunk in the Goonies giving the Frattelli's his life story. "Yeah it came from his step dads black BMW and he hides his stash in the passenger side door, he's working till 10 tonight, Nathan lives at this address, his home phone is this...." I couldn't stop! It was like a demon had entered my body and said "OUT WITH IT"
The cops leave... to Nathan's house, about a hundred yards away and the paramedics walk me out to the ambulance. Before I get into the back, I see Jeter, sitting on a hill across the street with a few others, looking at me like "WTF just happened"
We get to the hospital. I have no recollection of this drive or going inside or anything else. The next thing I remember was being in an exam room in the hospital sitting on a gurney and listening to a play.
Mind you it is in the middle of the summer and I'm in the emergency room. This little girl was singing, she must have only been 5 years old. At the time it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. The problem was, it wasn't happening. People were clapping and cheering, she was singing her little heart out and I, I was sitting there rocking the hell out to it.
My dad and his friend came to get me. I asked them as we left, where the play was. The two of them looked at me like I had three heads.
They took me to a McDonalds. My god was I hungry, but more than that, I was thirsty. Once again, I chugged about three super sized drinks.
So let's just say that Nathan and I didn't really speak much after that. Can you blame him? I narced on him and his entire family. As for Jeter, he went on to become the neighborhood drunk, cleaned himself up and sort of disappeared.
As for me. Well my mom made me go into counseling for 6 months and blamed the fact that I smoked pot on the fact I listened to The Doors and Led Zeppelin.
The doctors told my dad that the second joint was most likely laced with something. I've heard PCP being thrown around but my parents would never tell me any of this, nor would I ever ask them. It made sense in hindsight the fact that Jeter was fine- high but fine and when I smoked the second, all by my lonesome, I got completely f'ed up.
So there you go kids. That's the story of the time I got high, called the cops and ratted out my best friend.
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Shawn McGovern grew up on a farm 15 miles from Toledo OH. His life long dream is to one day visit that magical city and tell all of his friends about it.