I Got High With My Mom
This Story is Probably Fiction
I never had a very positive relationship with my mom. We always seemed to be arguing about one thing or another. Neither one of us trusted the other... I'm still not sure she didn't sabotage my lemonade business. And she still thinks I hospitalized those people on purpose.
So needless to say I was quite surprised when I came home from work one day, and mom asked me if I wanted to go to a concert with her. Mom never liked crowds, or strange places, or loud noises or spending time with me for that matter.
I didn’t think I could say no.
Within ten minutes of answering positively, I wished I hadn’t agreed.
The ride was silent, as I figured it would be. I’m a terrible conversationalist, and my mom is one of those people that are great at killing any attempt at conversation that gets made.
The radio steadily got louder as we both came to the same conclusion... we still suck at mother-son bonding.
After a solid forty minutes of awkward car ride, we finally made it to the theatre.
Mom and I found our seats and waited for the show. We were in the back and could see the whole crowd.
“I always hate seeing so many people on their phones, can’t they stay off those things for a minute?”
“Right?” I reply as I stealthily slide my phone back into my pocket, “I can’t stand that.”
You can do it Ben, just don’t play with, or think about your phone for the next 75-90 minutes.
“So who are we seeing again?”
“Pat Benatar”
“Ah… I don’t know who that is.”
“She was popular back when I was a kid”
“Oh, do I know anything she wrote?”
“Probably not”
Then why am I here…
The show didn't start for another ten minutes or so. Ten soul draining, phoneless minutes.
Time seems to stop when you spend it with the wrong person.
After what felt like an eternity, Fat Wantofart finally walked on stage…. I forget her name.
The music was actually kind of catchy, she had an amazing voice for being 1000 years old.
As surprised as I was by how much I enjoyed her music, I was more surprised by how rowdy the audience was getting. The youngest member besides myself was maybe fifty-nine, but the whole crowd was standing, rocking back and forth and banging their heads. A few of them were even grinding, which was something I was not ready to see. I was to afraid of what I might see if I looked towards my mom, so I didn’t. At least I tried not to look at my mom.
However my efforts were dashed when someone handed me a joint.
I was kind of a sheltered kid growing up. And I quickly decided college wasn’t for me.
I had very little “party experience”. I also had very little clue what to do with the joint that an elderly stranger handed me. The fact that my mom was right next to me did not improve the situation. I looked at the joint, looked at my mom, looked at the joint...looked back at my mom.
I guess she could see the indecision on my face, because she abruptly snatched the joint from my hand.
“What’s wrong?” She took a drag. “Have you never hit a jay?” She handed back to me.
“Jay? I thought this was weed!”
Well since I somehow have actual permission from my mom to smoke weed, I’d be an idiot not to do it.
The rest of the night was a blur. A warm swirl of all the colors of the rainbow.
I just remember really, really enjoying the concert.
The next thing I knew we were at the "refreshment booth", buying every damn bag of Funyuns they had. We carried our stash out to the car, and sat in the parking lot watching cars leave while we munched.
“I had a really fun time tonight” Mom broke the silence.
“Me too.”
“Ben,”
“Yeah?”
“You can’t tell your father.”
“I can’t tell anyone.”
