Stone Cold Steve Austin, widely known for his love of beer, has shared why he prefers alcohol over marijuana. Speaking on Wrestling Rambles, Austin recounted a humorous story involving a medicinal marijuana joint during a road trip between Los Angeles and his Broken Skull Ranch.
Austin explained how the infamous Sierra Blanca checkpoint in West Texas, known for catching people with drugs, heightened his anxiety during the trip.
“One of the funniest things back in the day was driving back and forth between Los Angeles and the Broken Skull Ranch. Every time we went through Sierra Blanca, a very famous checkpoint in West Texas, it was always a moment. Willie Nelson’s been caught there, every musician has, really—Snoop Dogg probably got caught there too. Musicians love traveling and smoking their dope, but they’ve always got drug-sniffing dogs out there.”
Austin decided to try marijuana as an alternative to alcohol, but it wasn’t his first experience with the drug.
“One time, we were driving through, and I had one joint on me. This was before marijuana was widely sold in California, but you could get it for medicinal reasons. I thought, ‘What if I tried this?’ I’ve been in wrestling my whole life, and I’ve always been a drinking guy—whiskey, tequila, vodka, beer, you name it. But I figured, ‘What if I try smoking this joint instead of drinking so much?’ The times I tried it way back, I didn’t like it. It always made me feel dumb, like I’d say something and wonder if it sounded stupid. Dope just wasn’t my thing, but I thought maybe it would be different this time.”
Carrying a small two-gram joint stored in a prescription bottle in his RV bathroom, Austin became increasingly nervous as they neared Sierra Blanca.
“So, on one of our camping trips, I had this tiny medicinal marijuana joint. It was in a prescription bottle, stored in the RV bathroom. It was a skinny little joint, but man, it smelled up the entire camper. As we approached Sierra Blanca, I started sweating. Those drug-sniffing dogs were out there checking everything—tires, trucks, license plates. I had White Knuckle fever gripping the steering wheel, thinking, ‘Here I am, retired from wrestling, a global icon, a national treasure, about to get busted for one joint.’”
The guards, who recognized him, waved him through, much to his relief.
“We rolled up to the checkpoint, and the guard gave me a look. I’d been going through that checkpoint for years—they knew who I was. Normally, I’d wave and say hi, but this time, I just sat there hoping they’d let us through. That joint was so small, maybe two grams, but the last thing I wanted was a possession charge on my record after everything I’d survived in the wrestling business. Luckily, they waved us through, and I breathed the biggest sigh of relief.”
Later that night, he tried the joint but didn’t enjoy it.
“We stopped in Van Horn, Texas, that night, about 100 miles down the road. I set up the camper, took three hits off that little joint, and got a slight buzz. I knocked on the camper door, and Kristen stuck her head out. She asked what I wanted, and I said, ‘Can you make me a martini? This joint ain’t worth a damn.’ That was my introduction to the world of marijuana—it’s not my cup of tea. If smoking dope is your thing, more power to you, but I’d rather have a margarita, vodka, or a bloody Mary any day.”
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