Gettin’ Legal in the Mile-high city

I recently had occasion to do a couple of novel things; well, sort of novel. We’ll just call them cool …

First, I flew 1^st Class for the first time since ‘Nam. Getting boarded first means you get to sit in your bigger, wider, more comfortable seats and watch everyone shuffle in line to their tiny, cramped seats. Until the other day when I did it, I used to shuffle by those same folks in the front of the plane and wonder what the big deal was. Well, the big deal is you get a more comfortable seat at the price of now being the one stared at. I hope I never looked that resentful, ever. The food is much too “healthy” for my tastes; if you don’t eat yogurt or cereal with skim milk, you are out of luck. Coming back the lunch was some sort of pasta all mixed into a bunch of vegetables that were all disguised with some sort of opaque dressing, topped by some strips of chicken with grill marks so perfect you suspect they have been stenciled or branded on. The tomato juice was good, nice and tomato-ey. I resisted the urge to get hammered in flight; who drinks that early in the morning, or in the case of the return flight, mid-day, except lushes? Even if the booze is free? (Coming home on leave during the war was different; then, you drank anything they were willing to give you, and thanked them most profusely.)

Another thing I did was the reason I was in Denver. A producer sent me tickets to come there to be interviewed for a film/story/documentary-thing they are making. I will keep their confidences, as they have asked me to and so say only that it involves games and gaming. (Well, duh!)

It can be both intriguing and painful, dredging up memories from 40 years ago, but worth it in the end. The funny thing about rooting around in memories that old is that they have a habit of dislodging odd memories that then come back several hours after the question was asked. Let me state the obvious: it really, truly sucks to be the last guy alive from the original crew. (On the other hand, the distinction does mean that I still breathe, not a bad thing at all.) I realize too that I have an obligation to answer questions about that time as fairly and honestly as I can. The historian in me demands that I do it, even though I realize that I could, if I was wired that way, take credit for stuff with nobody to gainsay me. Howsoever, those danged nuns instilled in me a set of values that prohibits my doing that.

And now to that “other” new thing I did, that I am sure some of you have been wondering when I would get to. I went to my first legal pot dispensary. Talk about a dream come true… I thought I was dreaming. Walking into it reminded me of Amsterdam, except way better. They scan your ID and then give you a number, like at the deli. When your number is called you are allowed into one of the showrooms to so your browsing. We stopped at LivWell-Enlightened on S Broadway; I have no way of knowing how big or small they are compared to other retailers and I did not get an extra bud for this plug. Ask for Amber, she’s a sweetie. After asking her for a recommendation or two, I selected a gram of Zeta Sage #1, a most satisfying sativa strain, and an equal portion of El Diablo #1, a very wonderful indica strain. The potencies were purported to be 18 and 21%, respectively. They were both just tasty as hell. The privately-owned building we did the filming in and hung out around the whole time had a very nice little balcony on the third floor that was about the same height as the canopies of the trees in the surrounding neighborhood. I spent a good deal of time on that balcony those two days. Here in Ohio, we have a ballot initiative on the next election that would allow personal use. I dearly hope it passes because the lack of furtiveness in CO is really relaxing. They are hard as hell on driving stoned, as well they should be, but just chillin’ at home? It’s all good in The Mile High City.