Back in high school, I used to smoke pot occasionally with the "burn-outs".  I wasn't exactly a burn-out myself, but I was able to mix with different groups of kids, and I liked some of the counter-culture stuff that was going on.

One day, I went off campus with a friend who had brought some pot to school.  We were sitting in the woods beside some railroad tracks, smoking her pipe when GASP!  The resource officer pulled up in his cruiser.  My friend had the pipe in her hand at the time, but he had us both get in the car for a ride back to the school.

In the back seat, I asked my friend "If I can get out of this, is that okay with you?" and she said "Sure!"

In the dean's office, our purses were confiscated and searched.  Her purse yielded a fat bag of pot, a pack of cigarettes, rolling papers, a lighter, some matches, and 2 pipes.  My purse had nothing in it besides some bubble-gum lip gloss, my library card, a brush, and a mirror.

The officer asked my friend about the contents of her purse, and there wasn't much she could do to explain why she had contraband or how it got there.  I stayed quiet until they asked me what I had been up to by the railroad tracks.

"Well, Sir" I said politely, "I want to be a writer when I grow up.  I was interviewing my friend on what it felt like to be high." 

The dean looked at me skeptically, but the truth was, there was no way to prove that I had indeed been getting high.  And my friend (God bless you, Steph) said that I was telling the truth.