I (barely) remember it like it was yesterday. It was a Saturday in November and I was fresh off the plane in LA. I had my shades on, was rockin’ my Vans, and I could practically smell the cannabis in the air. I knew I was home. My boy picked me up from the airport and we headed to a friend’s house to scoop up, where we were greeted with an eighth of indica and a huge pack of cannabis-infused goldfish crackers. I thought, “Oh yeah, it’s game time baby, let’s get it.” We smoked a joint and a blunt. I was feeling good. Perfectly fine.
But the goldfish? Those are a different story.
They all hit at once and knocked me on my ass like a Mayweather sucker punch.
I’ve never been big on edibles for the simple fact that I can’t control the high. I don’t like knowing that if I eat a brownie now, it might hit me in 30 minutes or 8 hours later. It’s too much pressure. On this particular day though, I decided, “Eh, fuck it.” Before I started eating, my homeboy said be careful cause they’ll sneak up on you. I was like “Alright,” but I was really like, “King Cannabis doesn’t need your advice, don’t ever play yourself.”
I snacked on them throughout the day and nothing really happened. We went around the city, got a meal, had some drinks, then went back to his apartment before getting ready to go back out that night. At this point, I’m like 35 goldfish deep, feeling invincible and completely unaffected.
Next thing I know, BAM!
They all hit at once and knocked me on my ass like a Mayweather sucker punch. I underestimated the goldfish and they showed me a proper welcome to LA.
You should’ve seen how ugly my face looked when I woke up. It was one of those pass-outs where you regain consciousness and there’s all kinds of line imprints on your face from sleeping a weird way. I was knoooocked.
And the worst part of it all: I WAS STILL HIGH AS HELL WHEN I WOKE UP. HOW, SWAY?!
The high was so terrible that I started calling edibles “Regrettibles™”. However, I wouldn’t say there was nothing but darkness at the end of the tunnel. I definitely learned a few things from this experience:
Don’t Get Cocky About Your Size
Being a big dude (or woman, because we’re about gender equality around these parts) is still no match for 400mg (not counting the blunts and joints) of THC in a four-hour span. Just because you can press your weight in metal doesn’t mean you can eat your weight in cannabis. There’s no trophies to be won here. You’re totally fine with the minimum dose.
The high was so terrible that I started calling edibles “Regrettibles.”
You’ll Sleep Like a Pile of Bricks
Edible sleep is some of the best sleep one can get. Sure, I was still high as hell when I woke up, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t rested and rejuvenated. I felt like a million bitcoins. If you ever have an obligation you need to sleep through because you don’t have a good enough reason to cancel, smash out a bag of goldies and explain yourself later.
You’ll Be Down But Not Out
I’m truly not a fan of edibles and probably shouldn’t ever mess with them…even though I definitely will. I committed to the life and everything that comes with it, baby.
Moral of the story: Respect the goldfish crackers, or any other edible you choose to ingest. Those warnings on the bags aren’t just for shits and gigs, they’re telling you, “Hey, I know you really pride yourself on how much THC you can ingest, but maybe take it a little easy on these? You probably won’t, but when you wake up the next day in a complete storm of Where Am I And What Happened, just know we told you so.”