Just one bongload?
Me.and my crew spent the summer of 1983 in the perpetuall search for weed.
We would meet at my cousin Joe's house every afternoon with a big fat bag each.
Then dump it on the sesh table.
Then of course we would commence to smoking.
Pink Floyd And more Pink Floyd.
I remember a few evenings when I was companioned home by the spirit of Marijuana herself. Saw green, no other color.
And one night I could feel nothing from the waist down.