Linwood Storm on “Getting Lifted” for the First Time [NSFW]

The Graduate (1967, Dir. Mike Nichols)

Fun Fact: My bornday is April 20th.

While I’ve typically refrained from the use of drugs, tobacco, and alcohol because I prioritize my health, like to feel in control of my behavior, and believe that reliance on anything that alters one’s mind inevitably leads to substance abuse (yes, this includes pornographic imagery), I have been drunk a few times during my younger years while vacationing overseas. I hilariously recall riding around Manila with my friend Joey on the back of his motorcycle while hollering at beautiful Filipino women one night. We were both surprised that we weren’t bothered by the local police. Not that I didn’t know quite a few of them, mind you.

My final experience with drinking was the last day that I had spent with one of my uncle’s family. I had ignorantly consumed too much Hennessy prior to the flight back home and had to be assisted by my father throughout the airport as the effects worsened. Upon landing, I arose and immediately rushed to the bathroom as the stewardess requested that passengers stay seated. As most of my readers can imagine, I found myself puking my guts out in the toilet.

Surprisingly, the morning after, I had awakened in bed and prepared myself for an unscheduled afternoon hangover run to prove to myself that I wasn’t physically set back by my foolish decision to get wasted. I haven’t had a drop of liquor ever since that eventful day, and the smell of alcohol even makes me nauseous, which meant that kissing my significant other at the time repulsed me more than usual. My dietary lifestyle became more complicated as my body started to reject store-bought eggs as well. Fortunately, my workouts continued to thrive, and my personal standards rose with the desire to increase longevity. With COVID-19 outbreaks still prevalent in the U.S., there was no doubt about my decision to take the necessary steps towards remaining conscious about my well-being. Moving from one city to another in Indiana also encouraged me to be more aware of my surroundings due to seemingly uneducated inhabitants.

Impulsivity is common, to a degree, however, those who know me would say that my actions are never without thought and acknowledge how I value strategy. Whether that’s owed to my inclination of perfectionism, taking precautions for the sake of survival, or atheism, I have an incredibly hard time not thinking about the consequences that may lie ahead. Throwing caution into the wind was easier to convince me to do as a teenager with raging hormones, and here I am in my mid-twenties, as an adult with consistently high testosterone levels in a rising hookup culture. The attention that I receive as an athletic Black male who is considered to be book-smart has thrown me off guard and made me more selective about the women that I allow into my life, but I have sown my wild oats when time permitted having safe relations. In one of these liaisons, I was offered weed from a spunky partner who I will refer to as Miss Robinson after providing her with a sensual oiled massage before engaging in taboo intercourse.

I declined the invitation to smoke with her until I recalled my bucket list. I had a road trip in the morning, therefore I inquired about when the marijuana would wear off. The answer: “Two hours”! I changed my mind and decided to partake in an experience that would change how I view reality. I was taught how to properly inhale, keep the smoke in my lungs, and prepare to cough. After getting the hang of it, we both sat in recliners facing a television screen as the movie ‘Due Date’ started. Repeatedly, I asked her what should I expect. Disappointed that my perception had not changed in the slightest. She told me to wait and relax. Time passed and I noticed that it seemed like the world was missing frames like a God had pressed fast-forward on Earth or using the ability “Force Slow” in the classic video game ‘Star Wars Jedi Knight: Jedi Academy’. I spoke without hesitation and comprehension of thought, although nothing I said was anything out of the ordinary. The warping of existence intrigued me…until paranoia settled in. Ridiculous questions such as “What if SWAT kicks down the door and arrests us?” and “How close is Miss Robinson and her sister? Is it possible she gave the weed to her in an attempt to kill her, not knowing she would share it with an innocent party?” traveled through my brain. I began thinking about what happens when one dies and accepting that fate.

The anxiety was exacerbated by the cold weather in the park model home, causing me to shiver tremendously under the blanket covering my figure and derailing the enjoyment of the film. Once the heat was turned on, I calmed down, with the exception of violent imagery briefly flashing since I mentioned martial arts being a better alternative to comedy while high. It was then I feared that I might have trouble keeping things in my head. The more I tried to meditate, the more crudely annoying voices crept like Jackie Estacado being taunted by ‘The Darkness’. Miss Robinson was worryingly fascinated by my outwardly first-time reaction and stated that I must be a very uptight individual, suggesting that in-taking water might help flush my system through urination. (Apparently, I admired my physique a lot in the mirror.) Either it somewhat worked or my high subsided. Regaining a sense of normalcy slowly returned and I felt looser. Similar to a dream state. I stepped over to Miss Robinson, who was slouched in her recliner, grabbed a breast with my right hand and her neck with the left, then passionately kissed all over it. My inhibitions were close to none and the moans that escaped us heightened.

I headed to the bedroom with the swagger of Sean Connery’s James Bond…and fell asleep for a short period of time awaiting her presence. The weed had made both of our bodies in dire need of rest and cuddled for the rest of the night. I gladly accepted the role of the little spoon with my member in her hand.

The next morning, I endured a minor “brain fog” waking up, getting ready, and driving back to my abode. I was met with the smell of a roommate’s leftover pepperoni pizza that I managed to resist as a vegetarian and ate a couple of bags of chips. If I had to draw a parallel with my experience, I would liken it to a roller coaster. I wanted to get off the ride, and now that I’ve survived, I wouldn’t mind getting back on it in a secure environment. The legalization of marijuana has a long way to go, in the state that I reside in, and as a Black American, I’m not willing to risk my freedom when there are other avenues, should I choose to “toke up” again. Boarding a flight to Amsterdam is a feasible option, after all.

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