Let's get the obligatory admission out of the way: I have smoked cannabis. The first time was when I was 16 and shared a spliff with a friend in a park near where I live. It wasn’t a pleasant experience. A gust of wind caught the joint (which was made of copybook paper) as I took a drag, and it flared spectacularly. The result was a night spent wandering about a school disco, hacking and spluttering and failing to chat anyone up. When I got home, I discovered why. My eyebrows were missing.
It’s a painful memory.
I’ve smoked it a handful of times since then, always when I’ve had too much to drink. I’ve always felt sick as a poisoned rat afterwards. Weed is not for me.
Some of my middle-aged friends still smoke cannabis. I’ve no problem with that so long as they’re not driving a bus or a plane, or off their heads and holding a shotgun. If you want to poison yourself, go ahead, just be aware of the risks. I’m not going to grass up anyone for smoking grass.
Source: David Kenny, thejournal.ie, 21/03/2011