August 6, 2010

The Heat is Making Me Fantasize By David Brannon - Part 2

Here's a pleasant little piece of pot fiction from one of Baked Life's favorite guest author's David Brannon.

The Heat is Making Me Fantasize

DAY ONE
Part 2
By David Brannon


Dealer’s eyes got brutally opened as price and quality competition came to the American cannabis marketplace. Once a person had to go to Amsterdam, or walk around Vancouver, for this experience. Today, in America, buyers can walk a few feet to compare quality and haggle over price. The days of $500 ounces probably aren’t gone. There will always be people willing to pay top dollar for exceptional quality. But we are on the way to a time when anyone, of legal age, can easily and safely purchase an eighth for the evening at a fair price.

Certainly more change in coming. Corporations see great futures in industrial hemp, a rebirth of cannabis-based pharmaceuticals and quality weed for smoking. There will be some type of cigarette-style distribution system sooner than later. Several clubs are already advertising themselves as 420 friendly; one says 420 only.


I spoke with several police officers who were moving booth to booth, checking licenses and tax documents. They were also taking a minute to make sure the sellers understood that, even though cannabis is once again legal, providing it to minors is not. It’s going to be a lot more challenging for thirteen-year-olds to get pot than it used to be. That’s a change long overdue.


For the most part life looked much like it had before re-legalization. No new wave of tokers broke over the wall. People who were not interested in cannabis did not start smoking just because pot was, once again, legal. Still, people were interested. Did the generally quiet and exemplary behavior of the cannabis community cause confusion on the part of the non-toking among us? Probably. The government has been telling lies about cannabis for so long that, when the gates of hell failed to open and swallow us all, the educated-by-DARE-so-educationally-impaired were at a loss.


Returning home I walked my dog, made dinner, and roamed through two hundred channels of not much on. At the close of day one, for me, not much had changed. Except, of course, that for the first time in my life I wasn’t in danger of being arrested for something I do in a responsible fashion.


How was day one for you?

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