Remember this post? ... he he.
Well, my mate, let's call him Frank 'cos that's his name ... brought this bong all the way back the the UK from California, where it was discovered living under someone's sofa, unused.
He wanted to 'christen it' .. and I was earmarked to facilitate this event.
He also wanted to bring a pal .. a 'roadie' .. and my experience of roadies is that most of them are hardcore when it comes to drug consumption.
I filled the first bowl with some well-cured King's Kush .. smooth and went down a treat.
The next bowl I filled with some more Kush, but added some of the scissor-snot from the recent Brooklyn Sunrise trim.
As I was approaching the bong for my second hit, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the 'roadie', let's call him Tim 'cos that was his name, wasn't quite right.
I turned my head to witness his eyes roll back, eyelids slam shut, and fall like a lamp-post hit by a truck .. going from the vertical to 45 degrees in seconds without any attempt from his arms to break his fall.
He landed on my dining furniture, breaking a chair and throwing everything on the table into the air, the hot bowl full of burning embers landing on the carpet.
Bummer.
They both left with their heads hanging in shame.
Lessons and results:
1. I now own the bong.
2. They don't make roadies like they used to.
3. My Sunrise is fucking strong .. and I've got lots of it.
4. Frank still owes me. For life.
5. I have a story to tell my Grand-kids.
6. The bong has rightfully earned it's name!