Reminiscing the first time I remember smoking herb… let’s hear what you got!
I was 14 years old and running around the neighborhood with the other local hoodlums. Most of us has parents that smoked weed but had the general lecture of " yes its illegal, but it’s really not worse than drinking beer so don’t talk about it"…
Needless to say, all of us were curious about that tray in the drawer or under the couch and eventually we all went there.
First time for me was under a local train bridge in the hood, some schwag and a coca cola can with a bunch of friends…did not get high.
Pinched some weed from my old man’s stash and my 2nd time I knew what was up. Straight up munchies and a love for herb…
Was kinda like a "Stand by Me " moment, thinking about it… 1 of us went to jail, 1 passed away at 18 tragically and the rest of us are still friends after all these years.
Love to hear your stories!
First for me was 16 in the muggy backwoods of Alabama with a very attractive girl.
I’m Canadian so it was a hell of an experience.
I got super paranoid and was on the verge of tears the whole time. 
June or maybe July, 1965 in my parents garage. Mexican dirt weed. I think I may have gotten a slight buzz, but I definitely was up for giving it another go. I was 15.
Towards the end of the semester, I had something that had the doc prescribe me a cough syrup with codeine. Cherry flavor. That first spoonful tasted pretty good. So did the next one, and the next one… Soon I was getting pretty fucked up. In fact, I was feeling good enough to go to school. Someone, probably a black friend, I don’t remember, said that I seemed pretty fucked up and all our friends laughed. I think that it may have been him that turned me on. Thank you!
I didn’t know how to smoke it. I kept holding the smoke in my cheeks instead of inhaling it into my lungs.
It was 1978, when I first took that first hit, I was thinking to myself that this is it, ever since then I bought the best weed that was going around the Chicagoland area…
Nowadays I created my own strains and passed my homemade strains to people in USA, Canada, South America and across the big pond Europe…Life is good folks.
Was 14 almost 15 in around 08 my freshman year in highschool ended up making some friends with some stoners had been hanging out with them for a few months but never smoked with them but would go and hang out while they seshed at the local spot( a corner of a apartment secluded behind some garages and bushs) was a Thursday and one of them got a dope metal pipe with the Grateful Dead bears dancing across a log they always tried to get me to smoke but was hesitant but my homie wanted me to get in on the sesh with his new piece was some purps that looked and smelled great decided to take a few puffs didn’t feel much but remember being hungry and going to munch on some pizza that was for dinner started smoking pretty regularly after that 
It was 1980. I was 12. My 2 friends had lifted 7 pinner joints from their dads stash. Put them in our tackle box, and we went fishing. As soon as we got to the lake, we lit them one after another, sucking them down like crazy. We did 5 joints in about 10-15 minutes. Saved the other 2 for later. (ha!)
But I didn’t feel anything. So we started walking up the beach to our spot.
Suddenly, it was like I was watching a weird documentary television program of some kids feet, walking across rocks and sand. It seemed very trippy and I was giggling at this weird tv program…
After a few minutes I realized they were MY feet I was watching and understood “oh! this is what being high is like. It’s really fucking weird, and I love it!!!”
I don’t remember catching any fish that day. But I remember sitting watching the sun sparkling on the water, and talking about bands, and bmx, and who knows what else.
Helluva language barrier, eh ya’ll?
My friend Warren had a joint that he lit up in the passenger seat of my '63 Dodge Dart. We were parked in front of my house and Light My Fire was playing on WQAM. It was the summer of 1968 and I would turn 16 that September.
Thanks, Warren.
It was very different but has a charm all it’s own.
That cough syrup was awesome with weed. I don’t know why they quit giving it out, those bastages.
I was 15. I always heard you don’t get high the first time so my friend made sure I did. He took me to his cousin’s place. Was my first time meeting his cousin, and his cousin’s friend had just rolled a fat blunt. Looked as fat as my index finger and longer.
The cousin, cousin’s-friend, and myself started smoking the blunt. Friend tapped out about half way through. The cousin and myself finished the blunt and I didn’t feel anything. So he whipped out the bong and we traded off doing snaps. Enough in the bowl of the bong you can burn it all and take it all in one hit.
7 of those in and it hit me 
I felt like T-Rex. Big head and tiny arms 
Most of the night was a fog but for the most part we just sat in a circle in his shed and hung out.
At one point I had to go lay down on the driveway outside and just stare at the sky… until it started pouring down rain.
Went home shortly after that. Next day I was on the hunt for more 
Stareway to Heaven
Wow, for whatever reason, the day of my first smoke is indelibly etched into my memory.
I can remember that fateful day with surprising clarity.
First puff spring of 1967, and by spring of 1970 I started growing (or trying to).
Ever since then I have been an outlaw grower, I have never grown legally. And likely never will.
A buddy of mine ran in an election for his riding against a powerhouse of a competitor. He was 18, and his competitor in his 50’s and in the party that was most likely to win that riding but still he moved forward.
He admits that the only reason he’s able to do this is because it was a media thing; 18 year old kid ruining against the automatically assumed winner… media gold really.
Anyways, travel back a few years we’re both 15 and at this time most folk I knew that smoked 
acted like total morons and kept me angry so I never considered it an option… but then this soon to be political friend suggests I try a smoke with him. I was floored, never knew he smoked so I said yes because he’s always had a solid head on his shoulders so I decided to try it.
We smoked a joint together in my folks backyard and 2 things happened:
1: I was able to focus on 1 thing at a time for the first time ever.
2: My anxiety calmed the fuck down.
And that was that… by college years I was chronic and graduated on the dean’s list in the top tier of my graduating year… all stoned as fuck! 
These are great memories! I love hearing the experiences everyone had, let’s keep 'em coming!
The first time I got stoned I was 14. I am the youngest of 6 kids and all my siblings were hippies in the 60s. So one morning we were all sitting around and my brothers were smoking a peice of blond Lebanese hash that was stuck on a needle that had been shoved through a matchbook. They had a jar over the needle and would lift it slightly and suck the smoke out. They handed it to me so I thought “what the hell”. We spent all day listening to “Dark Side of The Moon”. It was pure bliss. 
I have spent my entire life trying to recreate that feeling. 
I’ve got a few stories. I smoked cigarettes since I was eight years old. I sold weed in the 7th and 8th grade. I never intended to use it, especially after seeing girls and even boys performing sex acts just for one more hit! Just kidding. That never happened. Much.
One day (I was 14) I was in the clubhouse of my girlfriend’s brother and he passed me the joint. I was expert at that time at pretending to smoke, but this time I took two massive hits. Acalpulco Gold, he said.
It hit me on the way home. I realized I was making extremely exaggerated walking movements. I was seeing 2D animated cartoon stickers everywhere. That was so cool… I wish that one experience would show up occasionally.
First time, second, third time, didn’t feel anything more than the munchies and cottonmouth. Got angry about it honestly.
First time I was 16, hanging with my girl and her mom out at her place. Watching TV, bullshitting, smoking cigarettes, and her mom pulls out a “smokeless pipe”(wooden pipe with a swivel lid to cap it off) and asks “want some?” I said “Sure.” Didn’t feel anything. Couple hours later sober as a Mormon, I go home, take a corner too fast (6 cyl., 5- speed, 1980 Chevy Chevette, ugly as sin but, OOOH! She could scoot! ) and splatter a stretch of poke berries down the length of the whole car. Light tan car, hundreds of purple explosions, it was glorious when I saw it the next morning. Dad didn’t think so, it was his car (oops). That purple never completely came out.
Incorrect jam making technique.