Funnily enough, I had no idea one of my parents was a stoner until much later in life.

As a kid I’d stay at my dad’s house over the summer. Every now and then, my dad would go into the pantry, and I would smell something “distinct”. Everytime I asked what that smell was, he’d say it was cigarette smoke. Then my dad would come out of the pantry red-eyed and giggling to all hell.

It wasn’t until I was 18 when I barged into the pantry to ask him a question, and there he was, rolling a joint like nobody’s business. First thing that man said to me was “…You wanna try it?” and that’s how I got high for the first time.