Cannabis Chronicle 9: Gummy Gang

Get ready, Grams. Shit is about to get a lil' weird.

Many of us have an edibles story. Oftentimes, it involves someone underestimating the power of a dank pastry and then an hour later wondering if they should call 911 or the pizza guy.  During a coffee date with an old pal, I received a hilarious account of when the edibles hit.





was on the Amtrak to NYC from DC. I had a free night in NYC before an intense few days of meetings. Work was nuts and I was looking forward to having a whole lot of nothing to do even if it was just for an evening.


Luckily, I remembered to pack the last two gummy bears that I copped from DC Baked n’ Fried before I left. Their edibles always get me right, so I figured what better way to enjoy the almost four-hour ride ahead.  I gobbled one down as we departed from Baltimore.  I take my time with edibles, so I figured I would start with one and then wait an hour to see how high I would fly. When we arrived in New Jersey an elderly, Asian woman took the seat beside me, and I hit her with an elevator smile.


 “Get ready, Grams. Shit is about to get a lil’ weird”


A few minutes later, I started to get that fluttery feeling that lets me know its about to go down.  By the time we rolled into New York, I was high as pie and also convinced that Grams was on to my bullshit.  She kept side-eyeing me – or at least my high ass thought she was.


 “Can she smell the weed on me? Maybe it’s coming through my pores?! Oh shit son, I’m going to jail. POP hold it down…….”


I began texting my wife. She always keeps me level-headed and would know just what to say to me to chill me the fuck out. Unfortunately/Fortunately my wife was preggo and didn’t have much sympathy for me and my non-emergency weed emergency.  She was thoroughly entertained at how much I was wiggin’ out though. Thanks, Bae.


We were approaching NYC, so I start giving myself a get your shit together pep talk in my head. “You can do this. Start gathering your belongings and chug some water so no one else becomes suspicious.”  I had a laptop briefcase and a suitcase with me, which are pretty normal items for sober travelers.  These two bags were now the bane of my existence and I had to analyze how to smoothly transition out of my seat without somehow breaking a limb. Eureka!! I would consolidate. Just put the briefcase in my luggage and then I would be straight.  I picked up my laptop bag and immediately fumbled it. Smooth move, fool. Way to be incognito.  I recovered and began to attempt to shove the briefcase inside of my luggage case – it was like a fucked up episode of Mr. Bean, fam. The case wouldn’t fit so I was now giving it the People’s Elbow trying to cram it in.  Grams was completely me over me at this point and was just straight up gawking at my crazy-ass.


Eventually, I won the luggage/Tetris game I unwillingly participated in and hopped off the train at Penn Station.  My original plan was to take a Lyft or Uber, but there was a taxi stand right in front of me and my stoned stupor had me wanting to escape immediately.  I got in a cab and breathed a sigh of relief and finally felt a bit more relaxed.  Well at least until my driver turned around and said, “I’ve been watching you.”  


Bitch what?! I was officially shaking in my boots.


This statement was creepy regardless of my state, but the fact that I had a strain in my vein was making it way worse. Was this fool even a cab driver for real? Is he on some Taken shit?! I know he doesn’t want my black ass, my family isn’t paying the 5 for me. I’m finnna diiiieeeeeee!!!


I start texting wifey again. At this point, I was in full crime scene investigation mode. I sent her photos of his badge picture, the seats, and anything else that would lead the feds to my body.


Beyond the fact that my cab driver was about to eat my liver with some fava beans, I had a severe case of cottonmouth, and the ride seemed to be taking forever. I could’ve sworn that my co-worker told me our hotel was a few minutes from Penn station so why the fuck were we still driving?!  Was he taking me somewhere quiet so no one would hear my screams? Or maybe he wanted to be smooth and quick – just pull a Hattori Honzo, Kill Bill, mega-sword from under his seat and just slice me up right quick. Lord Jesus take the wheel! 


Nah fuck that, I hadn’t come all the way to NYC to get jacked and I want a chopped cheese.  I mustered up the courage to lean forward and look at his GPS. My super-stoned ass had given him the wrong address.  


It turns out my kidnapper was actually a nice guy and was really cool about the mistake.  I’m pretty sure the whole “I’ve been watching you” line was some sort of cabbie humor that went over my swirling head.  Thank God I didn’t go medieval on his ass and throw him in a Full Nelson. Liam Nelson that is. 




In Reefer We Trust, 


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Always enjoy responsibily.