It's not like I wasn't already a hellion by the time I met George. Just a month or two before he moved here from Chicago, I'd jumped the family Buick over a natural jump at 110mph or so, after not one but two other guys had died trying it. I showed George the jump site, and the skid marks where I landed that were still visible. He was duly impressed.
Our shared love of hell-raising as we called it was one reason we bonded, and his saying only inspired me further. We weren't into hurting anyone in any way or causing property damage or stealing shit or anything like that...it was a case of seeing what all we could get away with. Turns out we got away with a lot.
We smoked as much grass as we possibly could, and we reckoned that if we were in a public place and wanted to fire-up, if we only had one joint, plus a water or soda to wash it down with if the cops should ever approach, and no other weed or paraphernalia on us or in the car, we could pretty much smoke anywhere we wanted, and so we did. We called it the "Single Joint Theory."
I wish I could remember every place we ever smoked because some of the reactions we got were hilarious, but we smoked everywhere we went...supermarkets, shopping malls, libraries, movie theaters...everywhere. A mall called Century Plaza had just opened the year before, and at the time it was a big deal. We'd walk around and mix with the people, all while smoking a joint.
Oh, and I should clarify here, because while we did only take a single joint with us, I didn't say it was always a normal one. Back then they made papers called EZ Wider Unrolling Papers. It was a continuous roll of paper, gummed along one edge, and you unrolled it like foil or wax paper to whatever length joint you wanted to roll.
We both had excellent manual dexterity, and we were able to tear off a 10" strip of rolling paper, put our hands together and roll a joint that was twice as long as normal, in perfect sync. Sometimes we'd walk around with a 10" joint if it was a busy Friday night at the mall or wherever. They'd burn for half an hour and we'd get stoned as Cooter Brown. We didn't care. It was worth it just to see the looks on people's faces.
The thing was that while most people knew what pot smelled like whether they smoked it or not, they weren't expecting to smell it, considering it was a crowded public place with kids and grandparents, plus security guards and the occasional cop. It didn't compute, even though they were pretty sure they were smelling weed. They'd stop, make a funny face, turn their nose up and start sniffing in all directions. I can still see it...they looked like the groundhog who came out of his house to see if he saw his shadow.
I need to mention that back then you could smoke in public, although it didn't extend to marijuana. Back then they didn't have cameras every 15' either. We'd usually light a cigarette too when we'd fire-up a joint to make it a little less obvious, but some people figured it out and saw what we were doing. Sometimes they'd walk away in disgust and sometimes they'd ask for a hit. We'd always oblige, and sometimes we'd have a strolling pot party in public. Good times.
The idea that the SJT was valid and probably very safe turned out to be true. We each had a drink in hand, usually a Mountain Dew, in case we needed to swallow the joint, but we never once got into any trouble, and we smoked in some places where it definitely wasn't a good thing to do. We didn't flaunt it but we didn't try to hide it either. It was really fun to see people stop and sniff the air like groundhogs, and shake their head, like, "I could swear I smell reefer...but it couldn't be." That's funny. The Single Joint Theory was legit.
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