The First Puff

I had a try at shisha two weekends ago. And in between my first touch on the long slender pipe and my first ever puff which coyly came out thinner than the air, I quietly told the glass instrument that was standing bumptiously before me,"I don't like you".

My running into a group of friends talking about their night out almost six years ago was the first encounter between me and the S word. I was a naive little girl who was still wondering how to pad her bra when they have already made shisha sound like the new IN thing. And believe me, they instantly got my undivided attention at strawberry flavour. Then the apple flavour came up, then vanilla and grape and orange. Immediately, I put away the padding that was in my hand and started barfing questions, one after another. It did sound interesting indeed; like ice-cream topped banana fritter, or sugus that melts in the mouth, or the f&n drinks in the canteen fridge. But then they started filling me in on water vapour, pipe, and smoke. Well, unsurprisingly, the last word put me off and I left, never bother to return.

The second time I heard the word, it was pretty serious. It was a good friend of mine. A sweet lovely adorable girl stuck with a wrong company who introduced her to this unpleasant business. They were out one night, her stressing out with parents and studies, him enjoying the little play as she got high on their fourth round of shisha and other stuff. I guess I better not share the rest of the story but the moment she told me her experience, I swore I would keep myself away from it.

The third time was not less serious that the previous one. I used to have a crush on this one charming attractive lad who holds your hand while driving, opens the door in front of the gate and sends you in with an umbrella when it rains. Those sent me straight to cloud nine, floating and waiting for the rainbow to come out. Then one day, I got a call from him at midnight and he didn't sound so good. He was effortlessly mumbling about shisha, traffic, police and some other really bad stuff. Really bad. And yes, he didn't sound sober either. I figured out myself what happened that night and it broke my heart. We said goodbye and never saw each other again.

So, as I passed the pipe that has been lingering in my hand to a girlfriend across the table, I couldn't stop but to think, "I don't like you".

*as publicly known, shisha is far less dangerous than cigarette. nowhere close actually, except for the mechanism. That was my first, and definitely the last for me.