Robbie is a laid-back, 31yrold San Francisco native who teaches public high school in the city. He’s a large well-proportioned man stating, “I’m 6’3’ and at the time [of the story] weighed around 240-250lbs.” It’s likely that a smaller guy would have succumbed to an edible-weed overdose much faster.
(The following is derived from a recorded interview and the names have been changed to protect his teaching career.)
When I was 26, I decided to attend Comic Con in San Diego. A couple of my college buddies had been going since 2000 and always pushed me to come along because we’d dork-out about superhero movies and comic books on occasion. So a few years after graduating college I agreed to go.
I was flying into San Diego and didn’t want to smuggle weed on the plane, so I decided to bake pot brownies. Some friends of mine had made a ton of hash butter and gave me a few sticks. They didn’t know how strong it was, they didn’t even smoke weed. Their plan was to make the butter and sell it to Cannabis Clubs. But clubs don’t buy hash butter from guys with no license or paperwork, so they started giving it away to friends.
I bought brownie mix from the grocery store and substituted all the recipe’s butter with the weed butter. I’d never baked weed anything before. I had no clue how strong the brownies would be and didn’t try them before leaving.
I flew down with the brownies in my carry-on and met three of my college roommates, one of their girlfriends, and this other dude we used to kick it with in college, at the shitty little motel we had rented.
The next morning my buddy made everyone Bloody Mary’s for breakfast. Then we ate a bunch of the pot brownies and some marijuana cereal bars that my friend had bought at a Los Angeles Cannabis Club. We rode the train across the city to Comic Con and smoked weed as we walked from the train station to the convention center. By the time we arrived, I’d consumed at least one cereal bar and two pot-brownies. I was stoned.
Comic Con was crazy. I’d never seen anything like it. There were people in costumes everywhere, dressed up as everything from Star Wars to Star Trek to Doug from Nickelodeon. I started taking pictures with tons of people and bought a skate deck. I skate, but I definitely did not need to buy a skate deck at Comic Con. I was really high.
Throughout the day we snacked on weed food. We ate more brownies instead of stopping for lunch. I don’t know why, but we didn’t think to eat actual food. We just ate more edibles when we had the munchies. Maybe I drank a bottle of water throughout the whole day. The convention was closing when hunger hit us and we started looking for a restaurant.
We ended up at this place called Dick’s Last Resort. It’s a restaurant where the servers treat you like shit, that’s their whole gimmick. They’re like, “What the fuck do you want?” And if you’re not fast enough they turn and walk away.
We didn’t know about the bad service thing, which is just a terrible idea for a restaurant. We chose it because they had an open table. I sat down and our server was being a total dick to me. I’m like, dude, what the fuck? Why is this guy being such a prick? Being stoned, I was a little more sensitive to shit, but figured whatever, let’s just order. Suddenly, I was really hungry, really thirsty and did not feel well.
I became clammy. I thought, oh man, there’s something not right with my body. I need to drink a lot of water and lie down. I need to be on a couch and nothing else. I was far from any couch.
I drank a big glass of water. Everyone ordered beers. Mine did not go down right.
After one sip, I knew I shouldn’t be drinking. I had some more water, but nothing improved. I became clammier and clammier. I felt cold but my palms were sweating. I decided to get to a bathroom, that it would be the only safe space for me at that moment.
We were seated in an outdoor patio. I got up, feeling off-balance. I walked inside the restaurant and asked where the bathroom was. Someone pointed in a direction and said something. It sounded like “Wah, wah wah.” I didn’t understand a word, just followed the direction of their hand.
It was a huge restaurant, with tons of people and families sitting everywhere. As soon as I had entered the restaurant I needed to sit down. As I walked towards the bathroom I could feel myself blacking out. I saw a small space with two open chairs located at the beginning of a walkway for servers, which led to the restroom and kitchen. I sat in one of the chairs. I was continuing to black out. I thought, okay, I think I’m going to throw up. I need to get to the bathroom as fast as I can. On the count of three I’m going to get up and go to the bathroom and this is going to get better. I felt everything closing in. I counted to three, stood up and it was lights out.
I had fainted. Apparently I fell straight over like a tree, hitting the side of my face first, then the side of my body, before rolling onto my back.
I woke up because I felt myself peeing. While coming to, I immediately realized I was pissing myself on the floor, and stopped. I was aware enough to be embarrassed. Here I was on the ground in a restaurant and I’ve peed my pants.
People were huddled in a circle above me. My glasses were broken and laying on the ground next to me. I felt a warm wetness on my face, blood.
This guy said, “Are you okay?”
I said, yea, I just needed to sit up. I was wearing khakis, which was bad. Luckily, there wasn’t a piss stain on the front of my pants because I peed while lying on my back and all the piss had soaked the seat of my pants.
I decided to stand up, turn and immediately sit down in the chair. I think I pulled that off without anyone noticing my pee pants. Someone handed me a towel for the blood pouring from my face.
The lens from my glasses had sliced me pretty deep a few millimeters from my eye. There was blood all over my face. I looked like a total nightmare. Everybody had worried expressions.
I was still high at this point but adrenaline had kicked in, so I felt more awake and alert, but was still dazed.
Somebody asked, “Are you drunk?”
I said no.
An old fat woman was scowling at me. She was in her late sixties, and appeared to be a grandmother eating with her children and grandchildren. She said, “You had a seizure.”
I said, “What are you talking about?”
She said, “I saw it when you hit the ground, I think you had a seizure.” I said, “Uh, I don’t know.”
This whole time, my friends figured I was in the bathroom. I saw my server and asked him to get one of my friends. He wasn’t being a dick anymore.
My buddy John came in and said, “Dude, what the fuck is wrong with you?
Are you ok?”
“I don’t know. I stood up, passed out and hit my head,” I said.
He was high as shit too, so he was like, “Oh fuck? What should we do?”
I had no idea. I said, “John, I should not be in this restaurant right now.”
He left to cancel our orders and gather the group.
He came back and said let’s go, motioning to the front door. I wanted to go out the back and he asked why. I waved him to come closer and whispered, “I peed my pants. What woke me up was peeing my pants.”
He’s like ohhh.
“When we stand up can you walk behind me so no one sees?” I said.
Outside, my friends started making fun of me immediately:
“I can’t believe you fucking peed your pants.”
“You just ruined our dinner and pissed your pants, I hope you’re happy.”
The next day everyone ate weed brownies again, but I declined. That was the last time I ate weed.
HOW MANY WEED TREATS DID YOU EAT?
Over the course of the day, I probably ate 3-4 weed brownies and 2 cereal bars. They were really strong.
AT ANY POINT DID YOU THINK YOU MIGHT BE EATING TOO MUCH WEED?
No, the whole time I was like, whatever fuck it, I’m at Comic Con, I’m sure it’ll be cool. How high can you get? Not thinking I would get so fucking stoned I’d want to die.
I was seeing friends from college I hadn’t seen in a while. I figured I could just go back to the college days of smoking tons of weed and not worry about getting too stoned.
DID YOU NEED STITCHES FOR YOUR EYE?
I should’ve gotten stitches but I didn’t go to the hospital because I was stoned.
Is it really worth it to got to the ER high and be like, “I’m really stoned. I ate a lot of weed. I fainted and hit my head and peed my pants can you give me stitches?”
WOULD YOU MESS WITH EDIBLES AGAIN?
No, I don’t think so… well, of course maybe I would, but not in that manner. I might share a cookie with someone if I’m in a big, safe, green field with plenty of water and food.
HAVE YOU PISSED YOUR PANTS SINCE THEN?
No. But that wasn’t the first time peeing my pants as an adult. Urine rash is just terrible.