Adam Avitable overdoses on marijuana

Drugs are bad, mmmkay?

I laid, naked, on the tile floor of my bathroom, alternating between shivering and sweating, dry-heaving and sobbing while my entire body twitched involuntarily.  This had been going on for hours, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

Adam Avitable overdoses on marijuana

My Friday night started off relatively normal, if having six people under the age of 25 drunk and swimming in your pool is normal.  I was not in a party mood, so I nursed one drink for a few hours and hung out in the pool, dodging the occasional mosquito and ignoring the fact that the pool was just a shade too cool to actually be in it at night.

Almost two bottles of tequila were consumed.  Beers were shotgunned and the night was dotted with the glow of cigarettes.  I floated in the pool, thinking about how hungover everyone was going to be.  I reveled in my plans to go to bed soon, wake up early Saturday morning, and clean my garage.

As I toweled off and got ready to go to bed, a friend approached me.  “I heard that you were interested in some baked goods,” she said.  “Here – take a cookie.  They’re really strong, though.  I only ate one and I was knocked out for a day.”

Let me digress for a second.  When I was 32, I decided to let loose of control a little and try a few new things.  I smoked my first cigarette, I had alcohol for the first time since I was 19, and I smoked weed for the first time.  Now, at 35, I might drink once or twice a week, smoke a cigarette every now and then when I’m out drinking, and I’ll smoke weed maybe once a month or less.  I’m not a habitual consumer of anything that’s unhealthy, except mayonnaise and Oreos.  No, not together.

I looked at the tiny, petite girl and thought “Oh, if it knocked her out like that, this will be perfect for someone my size.  I’ll eat this cookie, and it will just help me sleep great tonight and I’ll wake up ready to clean my garage!”  So she handed me a cookie the size of a manhole cover (may be an exaggeration) and I ate the entire thing.

An hour later, the guests were gone.  It was 1 AM and I was laying in bed, playing a game of Scramble when the cookie kicked in.  The letters in my game flipped and became their mirror images.  My hands looked like they were two-dimensional, as drawn in a comic book, holding my phone.  The music I had playing slowed down until it was distorted beyond recognition.  I began to see waves of colors on the edge of my vision.

Extreme nausea drove me from my bed.  I crawled to the bathroom and propped myself up near the toilet.  For what felt like hours, I dry-heaved, tears streaming down my cheeks.  My body twitched uncontrollably and sweat poured from my face.  The paranoia began to grow.  What if this never stopped?  Why was I naked? Why didn’t anyone notice I was in pain?  What if I died?  Was I going to die?  What if nobody noticed I died? Why was I naked?  What would they say at my funeral?  Would everybody laugh? Why is everyone laughing at me? Why was I naked?

I used the trembling remains of my willpower and what I assume to be latent, untapped telekinetic powers to make my phone float from my bedside table to my porcelain-hugging home.  It didn’t work, though, which may have been a good thing.  The list of names I would have called was long, including my mom, my best friend, my girlfriend, and my roommate, but most importantly, starting with 911.  I wanted people in white coats with Indian accents to tell me I was not going to die, that I was going to be okay, that I had superpowers as a result of eating the cookie.  But then, right there, amid the hallucinating, the tweaking, and the paranoia, coherence and reason spoke up:  “I can’t call 911, I don’t have health insurance.”  And that’s when I decided that I was going to make it through the night all on my own while also wondering how many people have actually died because they don’t want to incur the cost of calling 911.

Two days later, and I’m still recovering.  The saddest part of the entire experience is that even the thought of eating a cookie makes me nauseous – how can this be possible when I love cookies with all of my heart and stomach and the cockles of my heart and even the sub-cockles area?  I’m going to have to slowly re-introduce different varieties of cookies into my life until I’m able to look at a Tupperware filled with giant homemade chocolate chip cookies without running for the porcelain.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is telling people that I somehow managed to overdose on marijuana.  It’s hard to get any sympathy for what was literally the worst night of my entire life when people can’t stop laughing long enough to actually feel bad for me.

And to preemptively answer any questions:

Yes, I am sure it was just weed.  No, I did not know that edibles are more potent.  No, I didn’t realize that one cookie has multiple doses.  Yes, I know I’m a lightweight.  Yes, my vagina is fine, thank you for asking.  Yes, you can actually overdose on weed and it’s more common than anyone realizes.  No, I don’t mind that you’re laughing at me so hard that you peed yourself a little.  And, finally, yes, this really happened, and yes I know it’s ridiculous, and no, I can’t believe it either.

75 thoughts on “Drugs are bad, mmmkay?”

  1. Imagine being an 18 year old college student having lived a sheltered life in a small town. Now imagine getting invited to your first off campus party with upper classmen. Imagine those same cool upper classmen pulling out the weed & lighting up. Now imagine you suddenly have the worst case of hives in YOUR ENTIRE LIFE! (And the stuff hadn’t even gotten to you yet… it was just from the smoke!) Now imagine going to an ER and having to submit to a pee test because the Dr. didn’t believe you when you said you hadn’t actually smoked weed, just was in a smoke filled room of it and being told you are allergic to the acrid smoke and the oils in the plant leaves. Now imagine everyone from the party laughing their asses off at you for the next four years because of the whole thing. Yeah… life of the party. Feel better.

  2. “You dont have to spend your life addicted to smack, Homeless on the streets giving handjobs for crack” – thanks so much for getting that song stuck in my head today 😛

    Sorry it took you so long to feel better. That was a really shitty thing for that girl to do, she shouldn’t have assumed you could handle what was obviously a way too potent potable (Celeb Jeopardy reference!).

  3. Different strains of marijuana have different effects on people. Or so I’ve heard. I’ve also heard that there are *some people* who have to decide at the start of the night if they are going to enjoy alcohol OR weed. Because *some people* have discovered that if they have BOTH, they wind up curled up in a corner somewhere, praying that the room will stop spinning before they get sick.
    Or so I’ve heard.

  4. I’ve never done drugs, but only because I’m such a control freak that even being slightly drunk gives me an anxiety attack, but I have to say that sounds like a really scary experience.

    Even more scary is knowing that you don’t have health insurance. Seriously. At what point do you go get some?

    Stop that.

    You’re self-employed. It’s a business expense. 🙂

    (I think)

    (Maybe…….if it isn’t it should be)

    I’m Canadian so I don’t have to worry about that crap. Go get some health insurance.

  5. Substitute “mushroom and peanut butter/jelly sandwich” for “marijuana cookie” and I’ve had your night.

    Bless your heart. But thanks for the laugh.

  6. I’m surprised you couldn’t reach out to your friends telepathically. It’s a known side-effect of magic cookies.

    I have never been so high I sat naked on the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet. I have been so high (back in the day) that I sat in a chair for hours and watched the music on my stereo. Yes, watched the music. God, that was awesome. Now I want a cookie.

  7. That sounds like a night I had where some friends of mine went into the backyard to smoke weed after a lot of drinking, and one of them had a very similar episode. She kept saying she was going to die, that she was sinking into the floor, then she started crying and she passed out. She said she could hear everything we were saying after she passed out.

    I did not partake, and after seeing her, I still don’t care to.

  8. I understand that your phone was too far away, but if you find yourself in this type of situation again, keep these two things in mind. 1) I have baby-sat a lot of my friends through intense drug-related situations, and am on call for this sort of thing 24/7 You have my number, call me. 2) Repeat to yourself, “There is a toxin coursing through my body. These things I’m seeing and feeling are a result of my body processing that toxin out of my body. My body is capable of cleansing itself of this toxin, and I should try to enjoy this experience which I have (or would have if my friends weren’t so generous) paid for. This will all be over soon, and I will be OK.

  9. NEVER trust anyone under 25! Also, why the hell don’t you have health care? Shit’s going downhill from here (trust me…I’m 42, well and far away from the 25 ‘danger zone’)

  10. Sounds to me like there was something in the leaf (but not in the smoke) that you’re sensitive to. Sort of how some kinds of bottom-shelf booze can leave you feeling hung over even though you only had one swallow (then told the bartender to put it back into the cat it came out of).

    Be interesting to know how other people who ate from the same batch made out.

    1. @Ed, even people who are habitual and daily smokers got knocked out for a day by the cookies. I don’t think it has anything in the leaf – I think it’s just the fact that edibles are more potent, I’m a very, very casual partaker, and I ate the entire cookie.

  11. I promise I didn’t start laughing until the final paragraph when you gave me permission. Once started, I couldn’t stop. This may be the one time you should be thankful you don’t have medical insurance: you’d the the EMT team laugh of the week.

    Glad you’re okay.

  12. in high school a friend’s cousin went to jamaica and returned with lots and lots of weed. although i never liked the effect of getting high (i preferred alcohol), i really wanted to and somehow thought shit from jamaica would impact my body differently. so three of us girls sat down and smoked three bowls. nothing. until i stood up. BAM! let’s just cut the story short and say that when i came to after passing out walking i could see auras or halos on everyone and the kind police officers who tended to me and my bleeding head knew my cop dad. the paramedic guys were nice enough to let me walk to the ambulance so the crowd didn’t get more of a show. and i could honestly tell my mom that i was not drinking that night, just that i had no idea why i couldn’t feel the needle shooting novocaine into my head even though i could hear the needle go in, the novocaine seep out…and then the needle pulling the string through my head over and over again.
    pretty damn cool experience, actually.

  13. “I wanted people in white coats with Indian accents to tell me I was not going to die…”

    That’s racism, man! I love to racism, bro! 😉

    This is exactly why I don’t do drugs. Hell, I don’t even like to take anything like Tylenol PM to fall asleep. I’m just afraid of the results. I won’t even try a Red Bull.

  14. You really don’t know why you were naked?
    You said you went to bed, so that would be my first guess, since you’re a notorious naked-er. And even if not, for how often you get naked or say you go outside naked to do so-and-so it’s likely you stripped down instinctually. It’s kind of your thing.
    There’s probably a Facebook/Twitter/Tumblr/Instagram/PhotoReel/ or other photo version of this somewhere, even if you haven’t come across it yet.

    And I imagine there’s an annotation saying “Mine eats high”

      1. @Avitable, I invented it. Should be launching in Smarch.

        Don’t worry, you’re not missing out on anything. I’m pretty sure you’ve signed up for every social media life sharing tool there is.

        Hell, I didn’t even know what PoopTemp was until you showed me your account. Why you would want to share with people the precise temperature of your craps in Celsius readings is beyond me. No, I will not be following you on that one.

  15. oh man, I took one single tramadol at 10pm a week or so ago as I had neck stiffness that wasn’t being touched by ibuprofen. I spent the next day and night in bed suffering from all sort of weird side effects including the porcelain hugging, struggling to wee and generally feeling like death warmed up. Only afterwards did I realise that there was a reason why I had an almost full packet of this random tablet in a drawer that went out of date 4 years ago.. it’s an opioid, and those things do NOT like me. So I’ve suffered the same experience as you, just with a legal drug. No laughter, just pity. Yuck…

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