The first time I did dabs

Dabs – Call me controversial, I’ll probably give you that to some extent.

My First Time Dabbing Cannabis (NSFW) from CannabisNet on Vimeo.

You can also kiss my ass because I won’t deny the fact that at some point while using dabs, I felt like I was crossing that questionable line into building a skill set better reserved for crackheads and meth addicts. I’m not saying I was blowing dudes under the bridge; it was the torch and rig situation that was reminiscent of cinematic flashbacks. Sure, my brain was in the clouds during these experiences so I wouldn’t say my thoughts were perfectly constructed, but just the same.

My first experience trying dabs was in Charlotte, NC in a high rise over by the Panthers stadium; I’d been living in Colorado for a few months, and I thought my balls were gigantic in the weed game. Long years of smoking and my high-brow locality, I suppose. For the sake of the story, I’m travelling for training purposes, and I happen to catch a weekend out there. I’d lived in Charlotte for a few years prior, so I layer on the alcohol and off to the social scene. Skip the whore-ish pre-story, and I show up at my friends at 3 A.M., pirate drunk. Now, this young lady is the kind of friend everyone should have at least one of. She thrives on parentally funded endeavors typically lasting until the sun comes up. I learned from second-generation immigrant parents to grip a nickel ferociously so naturally I’ll dig in on free indulgences. We start playing poker between four of us in the apartment, and she offers a dab. I oblige…like there’s any question. She gets it set up on the nail, heats up the rig, and then I receive the typical warning. This is an extract, it’s strong, take it easy, etc.

I ignore all of the former commentary, and dive in like an Olympian.

Fuck them…eh, no, fuck me. I feel myself ripping into high gear. High school stoned, it’s been a little while. I start off strong, leading with a smile, but this immediately becomes challenging. Lungs rejecting. Need clean oxygen. Need water. I’m in the deepness of a cough binge. One of those ones where you’re relatively sure a portion of your lung is dislodged. There’s a slight hack to the cough. The depth of the alcohol makes nothing about this situation any easier. Yet still, I am drunk so there’s no telling how stupid I look. Extremely is my best guess.

OK, so let’s recap, pirate drunk, 3 A.M. in the morning, stupid high. Success story…maybe. Follow-up required. Back to the lab…

The working assumption is that by living in Colorado, most marijuana enthusiasts take at least a modest amount of pride in understanding the technical background behind what they’re smoking/ingesting. Again, I’ll give you that if you’re talking about Denver. My first experience with dabs back in the great state of Colorado was in Grand Junction…the ass crack of Colorado and a general stain on the credibility of the state at least in terms of common sense. Basically, if you’re on your way to Telluride or the handful of desirable Utah locations (because who doesn’t love all the religious zealotry), by all means, take a load off and crash in Junction. Otherwise, if you haven’t visited yet, don’t bother. If you have, well you understand why I felt like I was learning meth skills…

What I learned about dabbing, I learned from a stripper

At any rate, I learned how to actually handle myself with a dab thanks to a stripper which made the experience all the more uplifting and memorable. Don’t get excited, we’re still talking about Junction so it’s not like the bar just got set sky high. I suppose it is a solid header to the story, but anything that ends at the free clinic always has to make you think about your life choices. So back to learning new Jedi skills. This wonderful young lady had been pushing the issue of just how incredible dabs are, etc. Again, I oblige. I imagine bong rips x 10 all at once, I strive for these. Pinnacle moments of my late teens and twenties were based on or started with these types of hits. She comes over and loads up the rig, and I get that new experience jitter in my stomach, and I’m ready to rock.

For some reason, every time I try something new, I can always hear my mother squawking in my ear about Len Bias, and the infamous one night of “experimenting w/ drugs.” I shrug it off as I have been doing since 14…it’s weed, zero fucks given. Stripper #1 takes the first hit, gives me the quick rundown, and I’m up to the plate. Being at the height of my late twenties, I touch off the nail, pull as big of rip as I can right through to my lungs, and I’m on fire. The taste was incredible, a little minty. My lungs actually felt like they were getting smothered by that deep smoke, amazing. Like all first-timers, you get rocked, and the feeling is phenomenal. It’s a reminiscent high, and it’s a heavy one.

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I’m not a fan of grossly informational blogs so I won’t get into the technology of the dab for now. Study up on your own time, but I’ll leave you with this one lingering, parental thought. If it itches, the free clinic doesn’t charge as much as your family doctor. Believe that.