P
pranicfever
Guest
We both sat upon the rock, and he packed the one hitter up. We each took 2 hits, and neither of us felt like we could even do a 3rd hit because we were so ripped. “This is the best weed I’ve ever smoked,” Dan told me, and in that instant, I felt more proud than I ever had before. We sat on that rock for at least 2 hours that night, both exclaiming how sucked-in to the waterfalls the rocks had made. I had a new love in my life, and her name was Marijane.
For the next 4 weeks, we went there every single day and smoked upon that rock. Things were great. Not only were Dan and I the best of friends during this time, we had managed to meet TONS of other friends from our dorm, as well, all while we were stoned. No one had to know we were stoned, we didn’t want people to know. It was between Dan and I. But the marijuana brought out the best in both of us, and we talked to anyone and everyone. Eventually, we talked Dan’s roommate into switching rooms with me, and Dan and I were roommates. We could have smoked in our room every day if we wanted to, but we always went to that giant rock in the crick. Through meeting everyone in the dorm and Dan and I being roommates always ripped, people would stop by our room 24:7. Our room had become the place to be in our dorm. Dan wasn’t the reason people came to the room. I wasn’t the reason people came to the room. Since no one knew that Dan and I smoked, marijuana wasn’t the reason people came to our room. But the three of us together made a great combination, a fun combination that everyone seemed to enjoy.
The semester flew by, as Dan and I were always together and always having a great time. Sure, our grades suffered a little, but our lives had never been better. Suddenly, it was the last week of school. Dan had been studying for exams for about a week in advance, so he didn’t really ever have time to go down to that rock in the crick, but one night he finally said, “Let’s go.” We walked up that main campus road, through the thorn bushes, down the steepest of hills, and onto that rock. Dan told me something I will never forget. He said, “Bro, you’re an O.A.R. fan, right?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“You know that song, ‘The Black Rock’? Well, I just want you to know that this is my black rock, man. Between me and you, we can come here and just think and talk about anything. It’s my favorite place on earth, and I love how we can come down here and just leave all the drama and the war of the world and just relax, just the two of us.” It meant so much to me that he said that, and I began thinking and he was exactly right. I felt the exact same way. Then he said, “You’re not coming here again next year. . Are you?”
“Nah man, sorry.”
“I didn’t think so. Well, I just want you to know that I hope we keep in contact, but if we don’t, I will never forget these times, and I will never ever bring anyone else down here to smoke.” I told him that it’s not a big deal if he smokes down there with someone else. I mean, come on, it was a perfect place to go and relax. “No Dave, this is the Black Rock. . I didn’t make this the Black Rock, and you didn’t make this the Black Rock. Us being together, that’s what made this the Black Rock. It’s our Black Rock.”
On the last day of school, Dan and I went back to the Black Rock. We were probably the last two people on campus, as we hiked our way down. We brought cameras and we brought our one hitter. We smoked one last time before my 2 ½ hour drive home and his 3 hour drive home. After we smoked everything left in the one hitter, which amounted to about 4 hits each, we shook hands and we got into our cars. Dan followed me almost ¾ of the way home, but my exit was approaching fast. I began to cry, as I slowed down so Dan would pass me in the left lane. I wiped my tears, as to look like a man. I rolled down my window, going about 65 mph on the highway with Dan right next to me with his window down as well. I had no idea what to say, so I waited for Dan to say something. Dan didn’t say anything, instead he turned his music on full blast and I heard a deep voice sing “It’s the black rock!” It was O.A.R. I got off my exit, and watched continued watching Dan drive by. My eyes watered up again, but I knew this wasn’t the end of Dan and I’s incredible bond.
A couple weeks later, Dan called me, as a great friend would. He told me to look outside, and there he was in my driveway. I came outside and he said, “Come on, we’re going to the Black Rock.”
Today, I wish more than anything that I was returning to that University to be with Dan for one more year. But, in a way, it’s almost perfect that it was a one semester thing. It makes the times we had so much more unforgettable. Dan will forever be one of my best friends. He introduced me to marijane. He picked me up when I was at my lowest. He’s part of my Black Rock, for that University will forever and always be my Black Rock. . .
For the next 4 weeks, we went there every single day and smoked upon that rock. Things were great. Not only were Dan and I the best of friends during this time, we had managed to meet TONS of other friends from our dorm, as well, all while we were stoned. No one had to know we were stoned, we didn’t want people to know. It was between Dan and I. But the marijuana brought out the best in both of us, and we talked to anyone and everyone. Eventually, we talked Dan’s roommate into switching rooms with me, and Dan and I were roommates. We could have smoked in our room every day if we wanted to, but we always went to that giant rock in the crick. Through meeting everyone in the dorm and Dan and I being roommates always ripped, people would stop by our room 24:7. Our room had become the place to be in our dorm. Dan wasn’t the reason people came to the room. I wasn’t the reason people came to the room. Since no one knew that Dan and I smoked, marijuana wasn’t the reason people came to our room. But the three of us together made a great combination, a fun combination that everyone seemed to enjoy.
The semester flew by, as Dan and I were always together and always having a great time. Sure, our grades suffered a little, but our lives had never been better. Suddenly, it was the last week of school. Dan had been studying for exams for about a week in advance, so he didn’t really ever have time to go down to that rock in the crick, but one night he finally said, “Let’s go.” We walked up that main campus road, through the thorn bushes, down the steepest of hills, and onto that rock. Dan told me something I will never forget. He said, “Bro, you’re an O.A.R. fan, right?”
“Of course,” I replied.
“You know that song, ‘The Black Rock’? Well, I just want you to know that this is my black rock, man. Between me and you, we can come here and just think and talk about anything. It’s my favorite place on earth, and I love how we can come down here and just leave all the drama and the war of the world and just relax, just the two of us.” It meant so much to me that he said that, and I began thinking and he was exactly right. I felt the exact same way. Then he said, “You’re not coming here again next year. . Are you?”
“Nah man, sorry.”
“I didn’t think so. Well, I just want you to know that I hope we keep in contact, but if we don’t, I will never forget these times, and I will never ever bring anyone else down here to smoke.” I told him that it’s not a big deal if he smokes down there with someone else. I mean, come on, it was a perfect place to go and relax. “No Dave, this is the Black Rock. . I didn’t make this the Black Rock, and you didn’t make this the Black Rock. Us being together, that’s what made this the Black Rock. It’s our Black Rock.”
On the last day of school, Dan and I went back to the Black Rock. We were probably the last two people on campus, as we hiked our way down. We brought cameras and we brought our one hitter. We smoked one last time before my 2 ½ hour drive home and his 3 hour drive home. After we smoked everything left in the one hitter, which amounted to about 4 hits each, we shook hands and we got into our cars. Dan followed me almost ¾ of the way home, but my exit was approaching fast. I began to cry, as I slowed down so Dan would pass me in the left lane. I wiped my tears, as to look like a man. I rolled down my window, going about 65 mph on the highway with Dan right next to me with his window down as well. I had no idea what to say, so I waited for Dan to say something. Dan didn’t say anything, instead he turned his music on full blast and I heard a deep voice sing “It’s the black rock!” It was O.A.R. I got off my exit, and watched continued watching Dan drive by. My eyes watered up again, but I knew this wasn’t the end of Dan and I’s incredible bond.
A couple weeks later, Dan called me, as a great friend would. He told me to look outside, and there he was in my driveway. I came outside and he said, “Come on, we’re going to the Black Rock.”
Today, I wish more than anything that I was returning to that University to be with Dan for one more year. But, in a way, it’s almost perfect that it was a one semester thing. It makes the times we had so much more unforgettable. Dan will forever be one of my best friends. He introduced me to marijane. He picked me up when I was at my lowest. He’s part of my Black Rock, for that University will forever and always be my Black Rock. . .
