April Bud, Pt. 2
Now that's it's no longer the month of April, I suppose I can continue my epic 4/20 post from where I left off.
Where did I leave off? Oh yes.
April 19th, 2006; 10:30 P.M.
Arriving in Dauten in a reeking cloud of smoke and recieving their criticism, I made my excuses and we all moved on. I showed my stash (the 6 joints and 5 spliffs) to everyone, breaking the rule that I laid out in April Bud, Pt.1 on never revealing exactly how much you've got.
So every year, on April 20th, stoners, pot-smokers and liberals of all persuasions gather in all sorts of places to toke up. I have heard tell that one of these gatherings takes place right here at Wash U, in the Brookings Quad at 4:20 A.M. Last year, there was a sit-in for workers' rights taking place in the Quad, complete with a squad of police on overtime; I believe there's a facebook group bemoaning this fact.
It was while showing my bevvy of paper tubes that Brody's suitemate, Dylan, fed me a few new details about the annual gathering. Apparently, everyone gathers sometime near 4 A.M., but they are not alone, for at every exit to the quad stands a WUPD officer. And they just stand there, watching.
Upon hearing this, any minute desire I had to stay up all night and smoke in the Quad was extinguished when I imagined it. I count myself as unlucky, and I could imagine the clock striking 4:20 and myself nervously lighting a joint and breathing that first puff in. And I would look over my shoulder at the closest WhoopDee, only to see him turning to the officer next to him and, with a knowing wink, striding into the Quad with a nightstick and a flashlight. I figured, with my luck and America getting steadily more progressive, that this would be the year that WUPD would beat the shit out of some unlucky stoner. Me, maybe. Or more likely, Brody.
So, in spite of the tetrahydracannabinol in my body, I thought ahead nearly six hours and decided not to risk it. No worries, though, because 4/20 was right around the corner. 10:45 P.M.? Yeah, totally no time at all.
It was the longest 75 minutes of my entire life. Mario Kart was played, troops were gathered (by which I mean Marina's roommate and my new stoner pal, Karen) and we set out onto to road at 11:50-ish. It was an unusually stupid man who, in a moment of profound clarity (he was high), pointed out to me how bitterly ironic it is that the law enforcement agencies of this nation have made it such that the safest way for us to get high is while driving in a car at night. So all you black-jumpsuit-wearing, African-American, late-night joggers beware; we smoke on the road because they'd catch us if we didn't.
On a side note, black-jumpsuit-wearing, African-American, late-night joggers should also beware the crooked fucking cops in St. Louis, who consider late-night blackness in the vicinity of rich white people a crime. If the cops didn't do such a good job keeping law-abiding black people off the streets, who knows? Maybe we'd run over a jogger or two.
I feel like my 4/20 is taking forever. I'm fucking exhausted right now, but classes have officially ended, so I hope to write the third and final part sometime later today. After I sleep.
-Alan
Where did I leave off? Oh yes.
April 19th, 2006; 10:30 P.M.
Arriving in Dauten in a reeking cloud of smoke and recieving their criticism, I made my excuses and we all moved on. I showed my stash (the 6 joints and 5 spliffs) to everyone, breaking the rule that I laid out in April Bud, Pt.1 on never revealing exactly how much you've got.
So every year, on April 20th, stoners, pot-smokers and liberals of all persuasions gather in all sorts of places to toke up. I have heard tell that one of these gatherings takes place right here at Wash U, in the Brookings Quad at 4:20 A.M. Last year, there was a sit-in for workers' rights taking place in the Quad, complete with a squad of police on overtime; I believe there's a facebook group bemoaning this fact.
It was while showing my bevvy of paper tubes that Brody's suitemate, Dylan, fed me a few new details about the annual gathering. Apparently, everyone gathers sometime near 4 A.M., but they are not alone, for at every exit to the quad stands a WUPD officer. And they just stand there, watching.
Upon hearing this, any minute desire I had to stay up all night and smoke in the Quad was extinguished when I imagined it. I count myself as unlucky, and I could imagine the clock striking 4:20 and myself nervously lighting a joint and breathing that first puff in. And I would look over my shoulder at the closest WhoopDee, only to see him turning to the officer next to him and, with a knowing wink, striding into the Quad with a nightstick and a flashlight. I figured, with my luck and America getting steadily more progressive, that this would be the year that WUPD would beat the shit out of some unlucky stoner. Me, maybe. Or more likely, Brody.
So, in spite of the tetrahydracannabinol in my body, I thought ahead nearly six hours and decided not to risk it. No worries, though, because 4/20 was right around the corner. 10:45 P.M.? Yeah, totally no time at all.
It was the longest 75 minutes of my entire life. Mario Kart was played, troops were gathered (by which I mean Marina's roommate and my new stoner pal, Karen) and we set out onto to road at 11:50-ish. It was an unusually stupid man who, in a moment of profound clarity (he was high), pointed out to me how bitterly ironic it is that the law enforcement agencies of this nation have made it such that the safest way for us to get high is while driving in a car at night. So all you black-jumpsuit-wearing, African-American, late-night joggers beware; we smoke on the road because they'd catch us if we didn't.
On a side note, black-jumpsuit-wearing, African-American, late-night joggers should also beware the crooked fucking cops in St. Louis, who consider late-night blackness in the vicinity of rich white people a crime. If the cops didn't do such a good job keeping law-abiding black people off the streets, who knows? Maybe we'd run over a jogger or two.
I feel like my 4/20 is taking forever. I'm fucking exhausted right now, but classes have officially ended, so I hope to write the third and final part sometime later today. After I sleep.
-Alan
posted by Alan Orlanski at 2:19 AM
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