"Up In Smoke" Submission #32

In the 1950’s, the term “stoned” was coined to describe somebody that was “under the influence.” Similar to “drunk” or “high.” In the late 1970’s, a derivative of that word, a noun, “Stoner,” entered the American vernacular and was used to describe, primarily, one who frequently smoked marijuana.

So, even though we weren’t actually using the term “stoner” in 1974, at Madrid High School… we had our “stoners” and everyone knew who they were. Steve “Hallsey” Hall, Brian “Huffy” Huffstutler, the Udorvich boys… and a number of others.

I can vividly remember many occasions passing one of these guys in the hallway or in class, usually before our first class of the day… and smelling the strong and distinct odor of pot. And you knew what they had been doing on the way to school or in their cars out in the school parking lot.

The smell stuck to their jackets, their clothes and their hair. Their half closed eyes and dazed smiles were further evidence of their impairment. I often thought that if I knew they were high, surely the teachers knew also. But they never said anything or did anything… at least not that I was aware of.

I didn’t hang out with this group much. I mean… we knew each other… heck, everyone knew everyone in Madrid. But other than being friends for a bit with Huffy in junior high… I wasn’t part of the “stoners.” But my curiosity about getting high was something that began to creep into my consciousness during my freshman year of high school.

I sat by Huffy in a couple of classes and I began to ask him about his experiences with weed. I asked him about the difference between getting high and being drunk. I asked him about cost and availability. I learned that it was packaged and sold in denominations such as a nickel bag, a dime bag or a lid.

He didn’t divulge who the dealers were but he assured me that he could procure it for me if I ever wanted some and could produce the cash. Huffy was as good as a used car salesman. His words intrigued me and his stories fascinated me. But I wasn’t ready to commit to an actual transaction.

One Friday night in January of 1974, the whole town (it seemed) had packed the gymnasium for a basketball game. The Madrid Tigers boys’ basketball team was state rated in the top 10 and the community was abuzz. We were not used to that level of success from any of our teams. It was an exciting time.

The team was led by a couple of seniors… Kevin Munson (my cousin) and Jim “Coba” Nicoletto, who had captured the imagination of high school sports fans across the state. Coba was a gifted, 4-sport athlete who nearly had his athletic career ended the year before in a freak accident during a baseball game.

Coba, who was the varsity catcher, threw off his mask as he prepared for a play at the plate. The runner barreled into him at full speed and his elbow crashed into the area around Coba’s right eye. Jim Nicoletto would never see out of that eye again.

The whole town lamented the loss of Madrid’s best high school athlete and wept over the fact that his senior year would be a total loss… athletically speaking. The problem was that someone forgot got to tell Coba that he was done participating in sports.

A couple games into the next football season, the townspeople were shocked to see Coba suited up for the game and standing on the sidelines. They were even more surprised to see him inserted into the running back position during Madrid’s first possession.

Coba finished that game with over 200 yards rushing and a legend was born.

Yes, he played basketball too, despite the fact that he was blind in his shooting eye and he competed at a level far beyond anyone’s expectations. His leadership and his skills on the court led the Tigers to a #8 rating in the state that season.

Now… what does this story about Jim Nicoletto have to do with the “stoners” and my first experience with pot? Other than the fact that I was watching him play on the night that I first smoked a reefer… absolutely nothing. It is just a great story and I wanted to tell it!

It was almost halftime. I didn’t see him at first but I suddenly smelled the aroma of cannabis.  Huffy had seemingly appeared out of nowhere and sat next to me. He had never sat next to me at a game in his life, so I knew something was up.

“You wanna take a ride?” He grinned broadly as I pondered his offer.

“Where to?” I stalled.

He repeated the question with exaggerated pauses between the words, as though he were speaking to someone from a foreign country. “Do… you… want… to… take… a… ride? Yes or no?”

I caught on to his cryptic utterings. At least I thought I did. This must have something to do with the topic that we had been discussing nonstop for a few weeks… his friend, Mary Jane.