How Being Stoned Finally Made Me Like Tacos

I was about 20, still pretty new to smoking weed, and visiting a buddy at another college roughly an hour away. This was before cell phones and GPS, so I would basically get in the car and hope I could find him.

If I found him, though, he could usually find some weed. He was actually the guy who gave me my first hit, even though I had grown up around it.

I spent forever looking for him that day and finally caught up with him at somebody’s trailer. I hadn’t eaten, I was still pretty new to smoking, and I got absolutely baked.

They were making tacos.

Up to that point, I did not really like tacos. My version of a taco was basically lettuce and cheese in a hard shell.

Then I smelled these things cooking. I ate one. At that moment, it was the best fucking thing I had ever put in my mouth.

After that I was all in on tacos. I was poor as shit, so I would go to the ATM, take out five bucks, and go to Taco Bell for 59-cent tacos.

Five dollars from an ATM and 59-cent tacos. That was a real thing.

Now I place my dispensary order from an app. I have endless choices. I use my flower in a vaporizer, put on a record, and relax while chicken cooks in Mexican spices and beef goes low and slow.

Same guy. Better taco night.

I have eaten much better tacos since that trailer. But I am not sure any taco has ever tasted quite as good as that first one. Maybe it was the weed. Maybe I was starving. Maybe it was being 20. Probably all three.

I just know I walked into that trailer as a guy who did not like tacos and left with one more thing in the world that made me happy. That is not a bad night.