I boarded a car in Portsmouth, Ohio being driven by Rembert Glass (my philosophy professor in my second year of college). Some other men were also riding in the car. Although I had been drinking alcohol, I didn't know whether the others had been drinking. When we started talking about smoking marijuana, I had the feeling Rembert was taking us to Tubbs' (a Portsmouth acquaintance whom I had barely known in the early 1970s) house to get some marijuana.
We reached a building, got out of the car and walked into a small room adjacent to a basketball gym. About a dozen men and women were sitting in the room watching something on television. When Rembert went to one part of the room, I went to a different part and sat down.
Although I wasn't very intoxicated, I began acting intoxicated. I spoke to some women sitting there, trying to be friendly and nice.
I realized all the men in the room were firemen. I was surprised to see my old friend Randy Ramey there and I asked him, "Are you a fireman?" He kiddingly said that he wasn't and that he was just wearing his large rubber boots for no reason.
When another fellow walked up to me and asked me if I would follow him outside, I did so. Although I wasn't completely intoxicated, I was still feeling the effects of the alcohol. After we had walked into the parking lot, he told me I was going to have to leave because I was too intoxicated to stay there. He wasn't at all friendly.
I tried trying to explain that I wasn't really intoxicated. I told him I was only acting intoxicated to be as "convivial" as possible.
Rembert came out and walked over to us. He spoke and tried to help me out. Since I was talking clearly and I obviously wasn't intoxicated, the man began to leave me alone.
Some other men including my old friend Mike Walls came out and stood on a porch. Walls rolled up a joint, lit it and began passing it around.
Rembert walked over to Walls and the others and sat down. I wondered if Rembert had come over to help me because he knew I was now a lawyer and he had more respect for me than before, but I didn't know for sure he knew I was now a lawyer. I also didn't know whether he knew I had snapped out of my former debauched ways. If he did, he would probably feel better about having helped me.
I wondered if Ramey was inside trying to gloss over the way I had been acting there by telling the others that I was now a lawyer. I could just imagine him saying, "He's a lawyer now. He's one of the smartest people I know."
I walked over to where the joint was being passed around. I had already smoked a little marijuana earlier in the evening and I wanted some more. I smoked some of Walls' joint with the others and then I spoke with Walls. When I recalled that I had had sex with Birdie (my black-haired girlfriend during my last two years of high school and first two years of college) earlier in the day, I thought about how strange it was that I would see Birdie and Walls on the same day.
When Walls rolled another joint and passed it around, I went to the end of the line and waited for the joint to come my way. When it finally reached me, I had to stoop over to get it. A greedy girl tried to grab it before I did, but I got it first (it never occurred to me that I might be considered greedy). I took a couple deep tokes from the joint, then handed it back to the girl.
I suddenly realized that the lit butt-end had somehow broken off from the joint and that it was still in my mouth. I walked over to the side; I thought I would simply smoke the butt end myself.
By now I was feeling rather intoxicated from both the marijuana and the alcohol. I was wearing a jacket with a hood which I had pulled up over my head.
When a girl walked up behind me and said she wanted a hit from the joint, I turned around and saw a very pretty girl whom I thought I recognized. She was a girl I had known as a schoolmate in junior high school, Maxie (although I couldn't remember her name at the time). I handed her the joint and said I thought I knew her. I asked her if she had gone to Grant Junior High School in the seventh grade.
I asked her if she remembered me and she said she did, although we were unsure whether we had met in the seventh grade or the twelfth grade. I knew I had met two different girls in those grades who looked similar. I recalled having heard from someone at one time that this girl had liked me. I finally concluded her name was Becky Pruitt. I said to her, "Yea. You're the girl from Grant in the seventh grade. I remember you. You were very pretty and sweet and nice. Of course I don't remember you being that sweet and nice to me. Maybe you just weren't sweet to me. I don't know why. I was so lovable."
Suddenly I reached out, pulled her to me and began kissing her. Her mouth seemed wide. She seemed rather hollow as if there weren't all that much to her. The kiss wasn't bad, but not really enjoyable.
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