My former dealer introduced me to dabs during one visit. It was so fucking strong that I (despite being a wake-and-baker for nearly three decades) asked to use his bathroom, where I sat on the toilet with my head in my hands trying to figure out who to give all my weed to since I was going to have to quit smoking altogether. I came to my senses a few minutes later and my dealer laughed his ass off when I told him about it. I used to think I was a potential medalist in the Pot Smoking Olympics, but that shit sorted me out right quick.