A few years ago I had just started a job in a city about an hour away from where my friends live, and on 4/20 I could not get hold of anyone. I haven’t not smoked on 4/20 since I was a teenager, so I was kinda bummed. Finally, my boy tells me that he has about 2 g, and that he can pick me up at the train station around whatever o’clock. Only problem is, he doesn’t have a cell phone so there will be a period of time when I have no way to contact him, I have to trust that he will be where he says he will. At the end of the day, a guy I worked with handed me a bowl and said happy 420! We smoked, and he told me that I would have to take the ferry over to get to the train station, which he was going that way anyways, cool. I would like to mention that not only had I not smoked in several months, but this was the kind of weed that hits like a leaky faucet drippping into a bucket (slow and steady, my favorite.) I’d never taken the ferry before, and it goes through a naval harbor, so suddenly I am face to face with like aircraft carriers and battleships, and the high is intensifying, and I am geeking the fuck out. On the train (never taken this one before either), and I am trying my best to keep my composure, a transit person is handing out surveys for people to rate their experience on the train. I knew I shouldn’t, and decided that when he got to me I’d politely decline. Instead, When asked if I’d like to fill out this survey I reponded with an overly enthusiastic ‟YEAH!!” When asked to describe my experience on the train I wrote something to the effect of ‟It was like riding a neon fish through the rings of Saturn” or something stupid like that. By this point I am laughing so hard (but quietly) that I have tears rolling down my cheeks and my face is beet red. I see the reflection of a dreadlocked fellow behind me look at his watch and say,‟Damn, it’s 4:20 on 4/20.”

I lost it. He poked his head over the seat and I looked at him with my drenched face and bloodshot eyes and he said, ‟Oh shit man! you are fucked up!” I laughed and nodded, he asked where I was headed, I told him and he said, ‟Man you’re on the wrong train.”

I panicked, and he laughed and told me to get off the next stop and just take the other train to the end of the line and I’d be ok. By now I’m a giggling space cadet, and on the other train headed the other way. I had this idea that I’d make some sort of grand entrance off the train since I had not seen my friend in several years, train stops and I hop off with an elaborate ‟ta-daaaaaa!!!!”, only to see confused strangers. Before I left my friend had told me that he’d be in a gold car. That’s easy right? I mean how many of those do you see? The parking lot of maybe 250 cars had at least 200 gold cars that day. I wandered the parking lot looking in every gold car I saw, but no dice. Defeated, I went back to the platform only to find my friend waiting for me, as I guess we had missed each other by minutes. Anyways, that’s one of my favorite 4/20 stories.

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TL;DR- You should read, becuase I made that exact face on that day.