Smokin Moose
Fallen Cannabis Warrior & Ex Moderator
I found this great little story on a blog I stumbled on. I hope you enjoy the read.
Tonight I was watching T.V and ran across a program about the medicinal properties of marijuana. Marijuana has gotten a bad rap and I think the people that argue for it are partly to blame. If you're going on national T.V to discuss the "medicinal" properties of a drug, how about dressing like a professional rather than someone that just stepped out of a Phish concert? Your dreadlocks aren't helping your case with the American public, hippy! That's besides my point though.
So I'm watching this guy, Moondoggy or Sunshine... or whatever the hell this guys name is rattle on and on about its use in Cancer, glaucoma and AIDS patients but you never hear someone discuss the greatest thing marijuana does for you... laughter. I've personally been helped by marijuana in this way. The following story is true, only the names have been left out to protect the innocent.
The year was 1993. I was a nineteen-year-old Army medic attached to a platoon of engineers in Mogadishu, Somalia during Operation Restore Hope. Our main mission was acting as the QRF (Quick Reaction Force), an Infantry company that stayed ready 24 hours a day to respond to any incident in the city at a moments notice.
There were three Infantry companies that would take this mission for a week at a time and then switch to the next company. My platoon had three squads that did the same. I was the only medic attached to my platoon, so anytime the QRF got called out, I made sure and go with them. That meant I stayed ready to move out 24 hours a day for the entire duration of our deployment, rather than have two weeks off at a time to kind of relax. This was kind of a unique position I put myself in since I don't think a whole lot of other people in my unit saw as much action as I did.
During our deployment I was involved in five firefights against armed Somali clans, including the firefight of October 3rd and 4th (12 years ago today), featured in the movie "Black Hawk Down". I saw and did a lot of things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime and came close to being killed more times than I can or want to remember.
After about three months of this, I was a nervous wreck. I had trouble sleeping (mainly from nightmares), my hands would shake uncontrollably for short periods of time and I would duck and cover at any loud noise. I think my platoon sergeant recognized the problems I was having, so finally he came to me and said, "Doc, you're going to Kenya for a few days R&R". I argued that I was the only medic for the platoon, but he insisted and assured me that the medics for the infantry battalion we were assigned to could cover me. So off I went to Mombassa, Kenya.
I stayed at a pretty cool hotel there called The Reef. After three months of sleeping on a cot in a big 30-man room with the constant threat of being called out on a mission or being hit with mortar rounds, this place felt like heaven.
I think it was the second night we were there that I stopped by my friend's room next door. I walked in and was immediately hit in the face with a thick cloud of marijuana smoke, more specifically, hash. My buddy passed the joint to me and without thinking twice, I hit it hard.
Now I'd smoked weed before, but it was nothing like this. This joint definitely grabbed me by the boo-boo and shook me around. I felt like I was twelve feet tall walking around the hotel room staring through people's souls, and I probably looked like the Joker from Batman with the smile I had plastered to my face.
We sat on the balcony of our second floor room all night drinking beers and smoking hash until the sun came up the next morning. The only thing I kept thinking was "I'm stoned out of my mind in a place where people carry baskets on their heads and there are monkeys running around!"
About the time the sun started to rise we started hearing this really strange noise from the floor below us.
Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump
My buddy looked at me and said in a really relaxed, stoned voice "What... is that noise?" We soon figured out that it was the treadmill in an exercise room right below us and I said "You run... and you run, and you run and you run... and you don't get anywhere" and we all kind of laughed.
Not to long after that, the kind of hunger you only get from sitting on a balcony smoking hash all night struck us all and we headed out to a local restaurant. We were all so hungry that between the four of us we all ordered two meals apiece.
"We'll have four spaghetti's, three steaks and a lobster" we told the waiter. At this point I was still REALLY stoned. My eyes were so bloodshot I looked like some kind of demon and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about being out in public. Just then my buddy Sergeant H looked at me and said:
"Hey Doc! <short pause> Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump"
POTHEAD!
For some unknown reason, that did it! Something inside me snapped and I started laughing hysterically and couldn't stop. For the next 20 or so minutes I was doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. My chest hurt, my cheeks hurt, I was laughing so hard I was crying! Everyone in the little restaurant was staring at me, but I couldn't have cared less. I think I might have even pee'd a little.
When I finally stopped, I felt... cleaned out. All the shit that had built up inside me had been released in this raging torrent of laughter. The stress from the previous three months, all the hatred, all the shit I'd seen and done, all my personal pain from this whole experience, it all melted away and nothing mattered anymore. For the first time in months, I finally felt whole again.
Needless to say, the rest of the trip was completely awesome and crazy as hell. When my trip was up, I returned to Somalia a different person. I'd still duck and cover at loud noises (I still do that), but my hands didn't shake anymore. Most importantly, my nightmares stopped and I slept like a baby. I even felt better about staying in the army and re-enlisted for another four years.
A $5.00 block of Kenyan hash and a stupid treadmill joke did more for me in one night than any pill or the years of psychiatry I would have probably ended up in could have ever done. So for this I have to say: Thank-you hash! And thanks to you Sergeant H. wherever the hell you are. I'll never forget what you did for me. Sometimes laughter IS the best medicine.
Source: Eccentric America
Tonight I was watching T.V and ran across a program about the medicinal properties of marijuana. Marijuana has gotten a bad rap and I think the people that argue for it are partly to blame. If you're going on national T.V to discuss the "medicinal" properties of a drug, how about dressing like a professional rather than someone that just stepped out of a Phish concert? Your dreadlocks aren't helping your case with the American public, hippy! That's besides my point though.
So I'm watching this guy, Moondoggy or Sunshine... or whatever the hell this guys name is rattle on and on about its use in Cancer, glaucoma and AIDS patients but you never hear someone discuss the greatest thing marijuana does for you... laughter. I've personally been helped by marijuana in this way. The following story is true, only the names have been left out to protect the innocent.
The year was 1993. I was a nineteen-year-old Army medic attached to a platoon of engineers in Mogadishu, Somalia during Operation Restore Hope. Our main mission was acting as the QRF (Quick Reaction Force), an Infantry company that stayed ready 24 hours a day to respond to any incident in the city at a moments notice.
There were three Infantry companies that would take this mission for a week at a time and then switch to the next company. My platoon had three squads that did the same. I was the only medic attached to my platoon, so anytime the QRF got called out, I made sure and go with them. That meant I stayed ready to move out 24 hours a day for the entire duration of our deployment, rather than have two weeks off at a time to kind of relax. This was kind of a unique position I put myself in since I don't think a whole lot of other people in my unit saw as much action as I did.
During our deployment I was involved in five firefights against armed Somali clans, including the firefight of October 3rd and 4th (12 years ago today), featured in the movie "Black Hawk Down". I saw and did a lot of things I never thought I'd see in my lifetime and came close to being killed more times than I can or want to remember.
After about three months of this, I was a nervous wreck. I had trouble sleeping (mainly from nightmares), my hands would shake uncontrollably for short periods of time and I would duck and cover at any loud noise. I think my platoon sergeant recognized the problems I was having, so finally he came to me and said, "Doc, you're going to Kenya for a few days R&R". I argued that I was the only medic for the platoon, but he insisted and assured me that the medics for the infantry battalion we were assigned to could cover me. So off I went to Mombassa, Kenya.
I stayed at a pretty cool hotel there called The Reef. After three months of sleeping on a cot in a big 30-man room with the constant threat of being called out on a mission or being hit with mortar rounds, this place felt like heaven.
I think it was the second night we were there that I stopped by my friend's room next door. I walked in and was immediately hit in the face with a thick cloud of marijuana smoke, more specifically, hash. My buddy passed the joint to me and without thinking twice, I hit it hard.
Now I'd smoked weed before, but it was nothing like this. This joint definitely grabbed me by the boo-boo and shook me around. I felt like I was twelve feet tall walking around the hotel room staring through people's souls, and I probably looked like the Joker from Batman with the smile I had plastered to my face.
We sat on the balcony of our second floor room all night drinking beers and smoking hash until the sun came up the next morning. The only thing I kept thinking was "I'm stoned out of my mind in a place where people carry baskets on their heads and there are monkeys running around!"
About the time the sun started to rise we started hearing this really strange noise from the floor below us.
Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump
My buddy looked at me and said in a really relaxed, stoned voice "What... is that noise?" We soon figured out that it was the treadmill in an exercise room right below us and I said "You run... and you run, and you run and you run... and you don't get anywhere" and we all kind of laughed.
Not to long after that, the kind of hunger you only get from sitting on a balcony smoking hash all night struck us all and we headed out to a local restaurant. We were all so hungry that between the four of us we all ordered two meals apiece.
"We'll have four spaghetti's, three steaks and a lobster" we told the waiter. At this point I was still REALLY stoned. My eyes were so bloodshot I looked like some kind of demon and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable about being out in public. Just then my buddy Sergeant H looked at me and said:
"Hey Doc! <short pause> Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump Whump"
POTHEAD!
For some unknown reason, that did it! Something inside me snapped and I started laughing hysterically and couldn't stop. For the next 20 or so minutes I was doubled over in uncontrollable laughter. My chest hurt, my cheeks hurt, I was laughing so hard I was crying! Everyone in the little restaurant was staring at me, but I couldn't have cared less. I think I might have even pee'd a little.
When I finally stopped, I felt... cleaned out. All the shit that had built up inside me had been released in this raging torrent of laughter. The stress from the previous three months, all the hatred, all the shit I'd seen and done, all my personal pain from this whole experience, it all melted away and nothing mattered anymore. For the first time in months, I finally felt whole again.
Needless to say, the rest of the trip was completely awesome and crazy as hell. When my trip was up, I returned to Somalia a different person. I'd still duck and cover at loud noises (I still do that), but my hands didn't shake anymore. Most importantly, my nightmares stopped and I slept like a baby. I even felt better about staying in the army and re-enlisted for another four years.
A $5.00 block of Kenyan hash and a stupid treadmill joke did more for me in one night than any pill or the years of psychiatry I would have probably ended up in could have ever done. So for this I have to say: Thank-you hash! And thanks to you Sergeant H. wherever the hell you are. I'll never forget what you did for me. Sometimes laughter IS the best medicine.
Source: Eccentric America
all the things that are said.
