I was in portland and hadn't smoked weed in a 2 months. Had some friends over and went out to a small punk bar down the street. Drank, had some fries, listen to music, good times etc. Anyway we all have a bit much but I honestly felt pretty alright, not too drunk but some of my friends were. We got back to the apartment and i went out on the porch to smoke a joint after like another 30 minutes of chatting. It took maybe a minute or two and less than a quarter of the joint before I realized how badly I fucked up. I'd been crossed many times before and other than once it hadn't been an issue. I was certain I was sober enough to handle a joint but I was a fool. I came in, super nonchalant, silently walked my way past everyone and laid down on the bed to try and stabilize the world. Their conversations flitted in and out of existence. Someone came in the room and spoke to me but they were almost as fucked up as I was and I couldn't understand them or speak. I just wanted them to leave but if I moved or tried to speak I knew it would be over. Some time later my partner came in and I managed to speak the words, "bucket, I need a bucket" before leaning over the side of the bed and gagging. Thankfully very little of it got on the ground because she is very fast and I was puking very slow. It was fucking awful though. I hadn't felt that bad since I first ripped a dab pen in high school.

Every one of us ended up puking that night lmao. What a surreal experience. We found someone naked on the bathroom floor, the room was filled with steam because they turned on a shower but didn't get in.