Reefing Out the Neighborhood
It’s been about a month since I graduated college.
Congratulate me.
I’m living at home — the first time I’ve done so in a few years. I’ve been back for winter breaks, but I spent my summers elsewhere.
Obviously, it’s been a bit of an adjustment, primarily because I developed a new, um, “hobby” during my time away in the Hawkeye state.
The Devil’s Lettuce.
I can no longer light a poorly-rolled joint in my bedroom, kitchen, or — on special occasions — bathroom. Sunday morning bong rips are no longer on the brunch menu.
No — I have to make the much dreaded, always awkward step outside. My business hours are between 8 p.m. and 1 a.m. It’s not a secret what I’m doing, but the feeling of being watched doesn’t necessarily pair well with getting stoned.
The absolute worst part about being stoned in your hometown is the constant threat of running into someone you know. Bumping into an old high school classmate in the Chipotle line during a sativa-induced haze isn’t the preferred way to catch up after five years. The possibility of walking into a friend’s house and greeting a parent always leaves anxiety-laden thoughts; “Do I smell?” “Are my eyes too low?” “Oh, shit, there's a dog smoking a joint on my shirt. Oh, shit, my shirt reeks.”
I realize that this is a petty — and, to some, pathetic — complaint. I shouldn't even be complaining — I have no right to. I’m 22 and live in Illinois, where pot is recreationally legal. I can totally light up. What’s really fucking stupid is the fact that there are tens of thousands of Americans locked up for doing the same thing. It’s even stupider that those with the power to change that and make weed federally legal sit by and allow continued arrests on asinine possession charges. Here are some statistics.
Sure, it’s cool that there are dispensaries on every corner in the Chicagoland area, mostly because it represents a cultural shift. But when I see a video of a robot stuffing 20 cones at once, I can’t help but think of the people having their lives wasted for a fraction of that amount. How anybody could be behind bars for an eighth is beyond me. What’s even more frustrating is that most of these lawmakers peddling falsities about weed’s “danger” probably haven’t even tried it. I bet they’ve sipped whiskey, though.
What pisses me off is the continued stigmatization of a plant. Humans have been getting stoned for thousands of years, and even did so for religious purposes. I bet the Crusades would’ve been a lot calmer if the Catholic Church peddled edibles instead of wine. Honestly, who gives a shit if someone smokes pot?
It’s probably not the smartest idea to be proclaiming my enjoyment of a federally illegal “substance” while in the midst of a job search, but that’s (partly) where my frustrations stem from.
Nobody is going to piss test me for booze, but God forbid I smoke a naturally grown plant — how will I ever send an e-mail? It’s not like you can be stoned at a full-time, “real world” job (although I suppose you technically could) — just like you can’t be piss-drunk trying to lead a conference call (although, again, I suppose you technically could).
Look, the war on drugs is essentially dead — Richard Nixon sure is. If someone wants to “spark up,” they should be allowed to. If they’re at their own home, bothering nobody, it shouldn't be considered a “criminal activity.” It never should’ve in the first place.
