I guess I should tell y'all a story while I still have the faculties to do so.

It is apropos because it is election related, but also funny and hip because it involves drugs.

This is the story of both the first time I ever voted and also partook of the electric lettuce.

The dank.

The keef.

The johnny red-eye.

YES I mean to say the marijuana.

So it was August 2008. I was 19 and the primaries were happening here locally in the gear-up to the election in November. Big deal, the local primaries in Tennessee. They get dirty. And I happened to be working for a family friend's campaign for sheriff.

This guy was no joke. I had known him my entire life. A former special forces member and parish constable from Louisiana, he had worked security for my grandfather for many years and now had his own company. This man taught me everything about weapon's safety. He is no bullshit.

I was (and still am) scared shitless of him. And now he wants to be sheriff and knows I've worked on several campaigns and done some work for the governor and in DC, etc and he wants me to help. I was still crazy about politics at the time so I was more than happy to.

I spend the summer doing campaign events for him and working the early voting polls, etc. It's all about the fish fry down here. The elbow rubbing and what not. This all really gets into full swing about June and runs through the primary in August.

So fast forward to the night before the primary election and one of my girlfriends from high school calls me to say her aunt is out of town and they're having a party at her house. She's a big wig defense attorney and has this big gorgeous mansion in Brentwood.

I say I have to work in the morning early (like, 7 am) but I'll swing by and say hello to everyone because summer is almost over and we're all going back to college soon and I want to see everyone, etc.

Here's where it's probably important to mention that she was, at the time, dating a guy that dealt to pretty much everyone we knew at school. He was, as the kids say, the plug. I knew this and was always very careful not to touch or eat anything in his apartment.

But on this particular evening, I was feeling grown and they managed to talk me into eating a brownie.

And when I say a brownie I don't mean like a half a one or a couple of bites.

I mean I, who had never ingested drugs of any kind before, was given a whole ass mfing brownie.

So I eat the brownie and of course I have now just unknowingly dosed myself into outer space, but while I'm waiting for it to kick in people are making me drinks. And I feel nothing at this point so I drink the drinks. For probably about an hour I drink the drinks.

Then, right in the middle of a game of beer pong, it hits me like a mack truck. And I do mean that literally. I felt like I slammed into a cement wall. Mid-throw I drop the ping pong ball (because I can no longer feel my fingers) and go to find my friend.

I can see terror spread across her face as she looks at me because I'm trying to talk but I can't. Finally I manage to tell her that I can't feel my body and I think I might be dying and she starts to laugh hysterically. Then her boyfriend is laughing. Everyone is laughing.

She takes me over to a table and sits me down with her sister and tells me I'm going to be fine, I just need to let it ride. I drink some water and try to calm down but at this point I can now feel every cell in my body vibrating and I am positive I am not going to live.

So I spend the rest of the night sitting there in abject terror, certain that I am dying but unable to move. Vaguely conscious of the fact that I have to be at work very early in the morning the next day and I have no effing clue how I am going to get home.

Finally the party starts to wind down and my friend tells me she texted my mom from my phone and told her I'd been invited to sleep over so I was going to do that (which I don't know how my mom bought ANY of this) and they haul me up and take me in to bed.

I tell her I am WIDE awake and there's no way I can sleep and does she have a book I can read to help. She finds the only book she can which happened to be Bill Clinton's autobiography and I proceed to read the entire thing cover-to-cover while I try not to panic.

Dawn rolls around and I have not slept AT ALL. I am still high as a kite, but find I am extremely alert and I think I can drive. I don't even tell my friend I'm leaving I just get in my car and make the most careful drive of my life straight to the polling location.

All I can say is thank CHRIST I didn't go home first or I would have been baked (literally).

And also that sunglasses are the Lord's proof that He loves us and wants us to live.

So I get to the county building and get my signs out and take up my post, still seeing double and feeling like I'm going to vomit but can't. And here rolls up my boss who is basically RoboCop. I start sweating profusely because I just KNOW he is going to know.

But y'all. This man brought me a cup of coffee and a muffin. And I was so grateful but I couldn't say anything to him because I knew he'd figure me out if I did. So I am trying to act casual but I am sure was doing exactly the opposite of that.

Eventually he asks me if I feel ok and I sort of sheepishly tell him I'd seen some friends the night before and had a late night. And he totally lets me off the hook by saying I'd worked really hard and I deserved it and I could just take off and go home early.

Completely unable to believe my incredible luck I stammer a thank you and grab up everything, prepared to head out when he says "you did vote, didn't you?"

I had not, in fact, voted yet.

So he sends me inside to vote. I walk past like 4 police officers high as motherfuckering giraffe pussy, certain I am about to be carted off to the clink, and proceed to vote for the first time in my life.

I don't even remember who I voted for. I could hardly even see the little boxes. I just checked some shit and ran.

I get home to find that my parents have procured me some Wendy's chicken nuggets and I sit down to inhale these things like I needed them to survive.

My poor, sweet, innocent, Church of Christ parents just chalk it up to me having been out late, etc, but my sister is sitting across the table from me trying not to laugh.

But bless her she never ratted.

I then went upstairs to sleep it off and never again touched the stuff until I was much closer to 30 and learned how to properly handle myself.

I did eventually tell my parents when I was old enough to be safe from punishment but have never and will never tell my former boss because I value my life too much.

Fin.