Amongst my friends in high school, there was a great debate. What was the best way to smoke pot? There was the joint of course, ubiquitous. At times we all rolled one, those of us who could. I barely could. It was a pain in the ass, and you always had the feeling, watching all that smoke go off into the air from the lit tip, that there had to be a more efficient way.
There were hash pipes, and I still have one of mine from back then. That’s what I graduated to after joints. You could even put a bit in the center chamber and smoke through it, in theory making it stronger.
Then came the steamroller, a bowl on top of a glass cylinder. It was potent, but harsh. And easy to break, thank god.
I was an early adapter for bongs. The first time I smoked out of one, it was made from a deodorant container. I made one from a radiator hose, attached to a bay food bottle. A couple fittings from the hardware store created a stem and bowl. It worked pretty well, but I was almost busted when my mother notice a black ring around my mouth one night when I came home.
So I went to the nearest head shop to buy a real bong. If you lived in Carmi, that meant going to Evansville to either Folz City Boutique or Karma Records. Folz City was funkier and had a longer pedigree, back when places that sold things like this, as well as black light posters was almost underground. They carried everything from the underground magazines, to essentially counter culture books, plus albums, posters, incense, clothes and god only knows what else.
They mainly carried ceramic bongs, in a dizzying array of designs, and a few acrylic models.
Ceramic bongs could be made into any kind of style … you could smoke from a smiling Buddha. Or you could go for the technological marvels from Toke International, with a built in tray. Decades later I’d find myself in possession of one with a tray, and in the shape of a dragon. It wasn’t mine, I was just custodian for a short time, but it had its charms.
It worked pretty well, but I was almost busted when my mother notice a black ring around my mouth one night when I came home.
Things like that seem cheesy now, but let’s face it. The whole hippie movement and those that came after were flakey as hell. That’s what made it so great. When you look down at the dragon, encircled in smoke, you have to laugh, because it’s a stereotype, yes. But because it still looks fucking cool.
I had one of the acrylic models. They were oddly shaped, a single chamber with thicker rings near the bottom – bulbous – and it had tubes. Two that came out from the water to the top of the chamber. It didn’t work all that well, and shortly leaked like a motherfucker.
Then came U.S. Bongs which solved the bong problem for me. Thick acrylic, sturdy tubing and the wooden bowl which came off, rather than using a carburetor. That was an innovation at the time and is now standard.
They showed that you could mass produce bongs, and market them at scale. Apogee followed, with a bowl that you pulled out using a wire handle. Good bongs, simpler than U.S. Bongs.
Then came the backlash and the IRS drove U.S. Bongs out of business. By then I’d downscaled, and couldn’t even tell you what kind of bong I had for a decade or two. And then none, as I dabbled in having a straight mind.
Now it’s glass. It’s everywhere, and it tastes the best. By virtue of tasting the least of all. And I keep it clean. No more having to fumigate the house because the bong tipped over.
I still have a hash pipe. Had it for so long I can’t begin to remember where it came from. And there is a non descript acrylic bong around here someplace, that saw use for over a decade.
I eventually learned to roll. From rolling tobacco. But I haven’t rolled an actual joint in years. Though I do on occasion buy the pre rolls.
I still prefer a bong. Because it’s smoother, easier on the throat, and I love the ritual involved in it.