Dunno what triggered this memory...
Christmas time, 1980. I am the mechanic at Princeton Ski & Skate on fifth avenue and 35th street in Manhattan. Miss Karen announces the delivery truck is in. We all shuffle down and unload. I was the first to finish and I go back upstairs, when what do my youthful eyes behold but a huge tray of brownies sitting there beckoning to me, courtesy of Tony. OK, I goes to work on them as rapidly as possible, downing probably somewhere in the vicinity of a dozen. Yes, I could eat that many brownies in one sitting in those days... perhaps 2x that, and not die.
I repaired to the shop to get some mounting jobs finished. Minutes later, Tony shows up and asks whether I had eaten the brownies, to which I indicated in the affrimative. To that he responded with a mixture of the grim and the neener. He then notified me that I had just consumed a minimum of 1/4 oz of the finest quality hashish on the planet. Knowing how destroyed I was to become, I made all good haste on the mountings, finished them, and then went out onto the sales floor, took a seat, and waited for the tsunami to hit. I'd consumed ca. 10 AM and figured that by 11:30 at the latest they would have to carry me to the subway.
Noon passes. Nothing. One PM... Two... nothing. I was very relieved and had done several other jobs since ingestion. Came some time after three and the wave hit me like a freight train. I was os fucking stoned I barely knew my name anymore. Thank God in Heaven 5PM arrived and I stumbled out the door, Scott (store manager), Miss Karen (asst. Manager) looking at me with great amusement, Howard (owner) with one of perplexity.
I do however, recall the amusement I provided for Jerry, Cyrus, Scott, Tony, Wanda, and Spero, the rest of the upstairs crew. Downstairs, Rosie, Hector, Liv, Evelyn, Joanie, Jaima, and Karen, I later learned, had their laughs as well. It was a good crew and 1980 was a good year for me.
Holy hell... I have no recollection of the trip home or any of that evening. IIRC, I was still stoned the next morning.
Needless to say, that was the last time I consumed brownies of unknown provenance without first asking. In my defense, my metabolism was so high in those days, I literally had to consume at least five very large meals per day just to keep 145 pounds on my bones. I'm 160 now and comparatively fat, but I can at least go a couple of hours without becoming faint from not having eaten.
So, what's your unintentionally-got-stoned story?
