Yes, even at my decrepit old age, I can have firsts and a few nights ago was my first visit to a hookah bar. Hidden away in the back of what I must summon all my generosity to call a pizza place, I gathered with a dorm mate and his friend over a bowl of sweet melon flavored stuff. And no, it wasn't wacky tobbacy. I'd never touch that since most of the high school elite back where I went to high school were stoned out of their minds and communicating with them was no fun. At all. Usually, the best I could get would be them raising their heads, sniffing loudly, looking at me with bloodshot eyes and then going back to sleep. In Poland, I saw many of my wasted classmates hunched over the equipment [pipes, lighters, tweezers, etc], tooling away like mad scientists, enveloped by the foul-sickly sweet stench of weed and two week old pirogies and wondered if weed makes you an idiot savant. So no weed. I have this fear that if I ever touch it, I will turn into a pot bellied, bald-headed forty-five year old eating pizza in his best friends' moms' basement.
I also never had any sort of tobacco before so I was actually getting slightly high (and sick) by the second bowl. Ahhh irresponsibility. Good bad times.