When I was in 5th grade, I had a "Drug awareness class" presented by our gym teacher and a police officer. I remember thinking when they taught us about cannabis, "Well, THAT'S the one for me!" and wondered how I could ever find some.
Fast forward about 2 years. My mother had died. Father remarried. New neighborhood. One kid says he could get me some, if I had some money..
The "joint" he brought me for my 2 dollars did not look like the ones in the pictures. It looked lumpy, and the paper was odd. He saw my suspicions, and said "What are you scared now? Do it!".
I lit the end with a stolen lighter and began to puff on it. It was harsh, terrible tasting, and yet somehow familiar. I finished the whole thing, and didn't feel any different at all.
Nothing.
Felt the eyes of the group of kids staring at me, waiting to see if my head would come off or something.
"So, you feel that, right? That's some good weed, right?!"
"Uhhhh"... All the kids still staring at me, and not wanting to admit that I had "done it wrong", I said "Oh yeah, I feel it all right. Yeah, I'm high.."
"Really?" said the older boy who took my money. "Are you sure?" he asked in a way that suddenly made me wonder why he was looking at me like that.
"Uhh, yeah, sure I'm sure. What, like I wouldn't know if I was stoned or something?!"
"Because I sold you a tea bag, unfolded and re-rolled, Don Meredith!" He laughed, and everyone lost it, and left me sitting there.
   They called me Don Meredith for the rest of the summer.