Sunday, September 27, 2009
Larry rolled a joint, a handmade joint. It looked "jointed," full of lumps. Amateurish.
"I can't wait for perfectly rolled joints," I said.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
"When pot becomes legal, we'll have factory-rolled joints, like cigarettes. Perfectly round."
"I can't wait, either. All kinds of special designs on the packaging."
We thought of the future. Puffing in bars. Checking out each others' cigarette cases.
"As a society, we'll be much happier," I predicted. "And creative. Alcohol is such a depressant."
"Pot bars will replace alcohol bars."
"Not that there's anything wrong with alcohol."
"It's just that drunks ruin it for everybody else."
"True, plus being an alcoholic is a selfish undertaking. You don't like sharing the bottle."
"Pot is more social," Larry agreed.
He passed me the joint.
I took a puff.
"Ahhh," I exhaled.
"Your pot 'ahhh' is different than the average stiff drink 'ahhh.'"
"The stiff drink 'ahhh' is said with gusto after pain. The pot 'ahhh' is uttered because the pot relaxes you."
"How interesting," I said. "Pot tastes good too. It really does. I want to be a pot bartender."
"What do you mean?"
"I want to serve pot."
"A pot bartender?"
"You'd be handed a smoking pipe instead of a cold glass, for example."
"A warm glass instead of a cold glass?"
"Exactly. Bartenders are like lab assistants anyway. Technicians. The right amount of liquid mixed correctly with some other liquid. I want to mix pot varieties."
"Pot varieties. Mmmmm."
"Acapulco Gold mixed with Panama Red. Powerfully intoxicating."
"How about northwest Mexican mixed with southeastern Canadian?"
"Exotic. The possibilities are endless. So are the highs."
"OCB Kush melded with some Afghanistan bush weed."
"Hard core. After dinner, some nice Perrella mixed with some Calabrisella."
"My lungs are moist just thinking about it."
We clanked our lighters together.