I wasn’t going to smoke crack, but someone there that night was going to...

It all starts out in the fall of 1998.

I am partying at my frat house with two of my friends from a different frat. All night long we must have put down like 25 beers each.

As the party is winding down, we go up to the resident drug dealers room to smoke bongs. After smoking for what seemed to be forever, one of my brothers runs it the room and is all pissed off. Evidently, he had just got back from the shady fools' house down the street, where he tried to buy some cocaine, and they had sold him crack.

So, after bitching for a while, he leaves and goes to bed, all the while, leaving the crack on the coffee table. After some soul searching, I decided to put the crack into a brand new glass pipe that Brodie had just bought.

No, I wasn’t going to smoke crack, but someone there that night was going to, and it was my job to get them to do it. After the crack had sat on the table for about twenty more minutes, I passed the bowl to my buddy and told him to finish off the bowl and then I was going to go to bed.

So he proceeds to take like 3 of the biggest hits of his life. At this point, I am almost pissing myself, and tears are running down my face from laughter. He has no idea that he has just smoked crack. About another ten minutes goes by, and Jeff, the kid who smoked the crack, looks over at me and says, “I don’t feel so good.”

Randy offers to take him back to his house, which is right across the street. Randy and Jeff walk out of my room and out the door. Brent and I continue to smoke weed and laugh about what just happened. All of a sudden, Randy walks back into my room, so I hand him the bong, and he rips a hit, I’m thinking that he dropped Jeff off and came back to party.

About 15 or 20 go by, all of a sudden Randy jumps to his feet, and blurts out, “Holy Shit, I totally forgot, Jeff is passed out in the middle of Analomink St..” I jump up and open the shade of my window, and what to my surprise, there is Jeff sleeping right on the double yellow line.

We both immediately run out to the street, pick Jeff up and take him to Randy's house. Jeff is just mumbling random words, and his skin is as green as the water in the puddle in the Sig Pi basement. So we let Jeff go to sleep, and Randy and I just pass out.

The next morning, Jeff wakes up and looks like a tractor trail, from route 80, ran him over and then did a k-turn on his face. He just thinks that the weed we smoked was laced with PCP, so that’s the story we stick to, we’re not going to tell him that he smoked crack, partly because we feel bad, but mostly so we can tell everyone else, and make a huge joke out of it.

See, for four years Jeff thought he smoked PCP and every time anyone mentioned dust Jeff said it doesn’t make you trip, it just gives you an intense rush. that’s probably cause it was crack

Fast forward to fall 2002. Jeff is student teaching at a local high school, and doing his best to party on the weekends. With graduation 3 days away, Jeff throws a party at his place. So all the same people show up as usual, but that night was going to go down as one of the funniest moments in ESU history.

After I drink like 20 beers, I stand up on top of a coffee table in his living room and finally tell Joe that he didn’t smoke PCP, it was crack. The look on his face was priceless, half angry and wanting kill me, and half, “oh my God, I am a crack head.”

So the whole room is laughing at Jeff, he jumps up, runs into his room, and slams the door. He comes out ten minutes later and continues to party, and we still remain friends to this day.