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Flying Too High
Maybe the margarita was a bad idea. There it is, sitting on the bar, mocking me. At this moment I am 100% confident that I should not have accepted the bartender’s up-sale pitch to make it a double. Although, to be honest, it’s really not the margarita I’m worried about. It’s the chunk of Cookies & Cream White Chocolate Best Bar from Best Daze that I popped into my mouth to celebrate the start of my vacation as soon as I parked my car at the Albuquerque International Sunport.
What time is it? OK, it’s 1:14 pm. The last time I looked at my ticket, it said boarding begins at 1:58 pm. And I’m in boarding group F. I can totally finish eating, use the bathroom and get to the correct gate at the right time. I better get back to my buffalo chicken salad.
The chop of the salad would be perfect for a giant. I’m a quarter of the way through and just now realize I have a knife. I pick up the knife and start cutting the romaine lettuce and chicken into smaller pieces. No longer am I opening my mouth as wide as I do at the dentist to get a bite inside. Absolutely incredible. This is so much easier.
Normally, I’m all about the dressing on the side. But this afternoon when I saw the container of blue cheese on the side, I thought, ‘No!’ I slowly dribble the dressing, twirling my fork around the bowl in an attempt to evenly distribute it to the entirety of the salad. This situation could really use a pair of tongs. But tongs are tricky even when sober. My plan of attack isn’t working. I decide to divide and conquer the salad in sections. Great plan, I assure myself.
There’s laughter coming from the kitchen. There are two laughs in particular that make me laugh. As I wonder what was so funny, I realize I’ve lost my napkin. I must have dropped it. But when? I look under the bar and around my backpack. It’s gone. I realize I’m searching for this napkin like it was a piece of nice jewelry. I notice the man sitting one seat away from me staring in my direction with a concerned look on his face. Can he tell that I ate an edible in the parking lot? Does he think I’m looking for a precious gemstone? I don’t want to tell him I’m looking for my lost napkin, so I pretend I don’t care anymore and give up the search.
I can’t get over how much easier this salad is to eat now that I’ve re-chopped it and severed it into smaller pieces. What a game changer.
A woman sitting behind me sounds like the town gossip in a Jane Austen novel. It’s uncanny. I turn around to find two people in this conversation, but so far I’ve just heard from the chatty gossiper. Now, I hear the other woman in the conversation behind me. Hmm. Not at all what I’d imagined her voice to sound like. Her time is up, as her friend, chatty Cathy, is back in the ring. I fear the quiet one may not get another chance to chime in.
The concerned man sitting near me is paying his check. I remember him ordering wings, but where is the plate with bones or the pile of used napkins? How did I miss an entire plate of wings being served and consumed within my peripheral vision? That is so unlike me. Oh no, I’ve made eye contact with him. I must avert my eyes. Quickly, I open my book and bore my eyes into the page. No way can I make small talk with another human right now. He’s still looking at me, perplexed. He must know I accidentally got too high. How could I have been so careless when I put that entire piece of chocolate in my mouth? He’s leaving. Great, I’m off the hook.
I need to remember I already paid my tab so the bartender who served me could close out at the end of her shift. If I’m not careful, this new guy behind the bar could totally scam me into paying twice with very little effort on his part. I also wouldn’t be surprised if I asked for the check and offered to pay twice. That chocolate bar was strong, especially for being expired. I also failed to realize it was 300mg, not the standard 100mg. So the piece I ate was triple the dose I thought I was taking.
I lean forward to find my straw. Yes, I am still drinking the margarita at this point. Pot makes me so irrational. Don’t judge, or do. It’s your choice. Focus, I tell myself. I need to put this buffalo chicken salad into my body to absorb some of this ridiculously strong margarita. Man, this Frank’s Red Hot tastes more feisty than usual. I’m afraid a fire will ignite inside my throat. Heartburn doesn’t sound like a good time. I can feel the Frank’s all over my face. I miss my napkin. I really could use it in my time of need. I notice there’s a napkin underneath my margarita. Yes! I clutch the napkin, like I’m holding on for dear life. Did I just put an entire forkful of onions in my mouth? Yes I did. I’m a mess.
Did Cathy just whinny like a horse? I look at the time. Shit. It’s 1:52. I’ve got to get out of this stool and to the gate. I manage to collect my backpack and leave the bar. I search for gate B7. Where is it? I curse myself for eating too much of that edible and turning the Albuquerque airport into a labyrinth. It’s hidden around a corner. I sigh with relief. They haven’t deplaned yet. I park myself on the floor. I could use some grounding right now.
The spins kick in. I might be sick. It’s too soon to tell. I make it to a chair and put my head between my knees. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this stoned before, at least not while waiting to board a flight. I do know the fun has stopped and anxiety has set in. How am I going to get on the plane? I feel so dizzy. Are the lights getting brighter? I can’t take it. I have to put my sunglasses on. I hear group F being called. I have to get out of this chair, put my backpack on, walk to the gate and down the tunnel into the plane. I feel like a live version of the scene in The Wolf of Wall Street where Leonardo Dicaprio is trying to walk down the stairs to his car after taking quaaludes. If he could make it, surely so can I.
By some miracle, I get on the plane and find my seat. I turn the air on above me. Take-off is a struggle for me, not the plane, thankfully. I lurch forward in the middle seat, sunglasses still on and wait for things to settle down. Maybe my seatmates will just assume I have a migraine. Once we’re in the air, I know I need a distraction. I pull out my phone and browse through Alaska’s free entertainment options. I select Die Hard. I haven’t seen it before, and something about Bruce Willis’s face brings me comfort. I couldn’t tell you what happened in the first half of the movie, but when it was time to land, I felt way less insane. Still high, but functional without a massive amount of effort.
The moral of this story is: if you plan to travel stoned, I cannot recommend enough that you read the label and dose yourself accordingly. That is, if you want a laid-back and enjoyable experience, which sounds a lot more fun than what I did.
Shake: Odds and ends from New Mexico and beyond
Martha’s Vineyard could be without pot very soon
The Associated Press reports Martha’s Vineyard may not be able to supply its 230-plus medical marijuana patients and countless recreational users for much longer due to its geographical location. Marijuana has been legal in Massachusetts since 2016, but islanders are having trouble getting pot transported across the ocean, even within state territorial waters. The one commercial grower on the island, Fine Fettle , a Connecticut-based company decided to stop growing on the island due to costs and will shut down its store once they sell all remaining product. Once Fine Fettle runs out of product, the island will be without cannabis, requiring residents to ferry to the mainland for supplies. The only other dispensary on the island, Island Time , ran out of cannabis products at the end of May. Geoff Rose, the owner of Island Time, has filed a lawsuit against the Massachusetts Cannabis Control Commission. Rose is on the verge of going out of business because he can no longer acquire marijuana from the island itself, and has been told he cannot ferry cannabis to the island from the mainland by the commission. The lawsuit has brought commissioners over to the island, where they have told residents they want to get this issue resolved quickly. Commissioner Kimberly Roy tells the AP nobody could have foreseen the supply chain issue.
30-year prison sentence for bong water possession?
Jessica Beske, of North Dakota, was pulled over in Polk County, Minnesota for speeding. Deputies on the scene allegedly smelled marijuana and searched her car and found a bong, a glass jar containing a crystal-like substance and some other drug paraphernalia. Deputies claim the bong water weighed 8 ounces and the “crystal-like substance” weighed 13.2 grams, which included the weight of the glass jar. The residue on the paraphernalia and the bong water tested positive for methamphetamine. Beske told the Minnesota Reformer that she had no drugs in the car, only residue was present. Last year the Minnesota Legislature decriminalized drug paraphernalia, even with residue. Despite the decriminalization, Minnesota has an old provision in state law that classifies bong water as a controlled substance. People tend to not consume bong water, but state prosecutors have used the classification to charge drug-related offenders with more severe crimes than they otherwise would be eligible for. Because the 8 ounces of bong water is considered the same as 8 ounces of methamphetamine in Minnesota, the Polk County prosecutor has charged Beske with a first-degree felony possession, which carries up to a 30-year prison sentence and $1 million fine. Deputies also seized Beske’s car and $2,400 in cash, which they argued was evidence of proceeds for a controlled substance offense. But Beske says she won the cash at a casino and had the tax form to prove it. Bong water was formally written into law after a 2009 state Supreme Court case in which a divided court decided bong water could be considered a “drug mixture.” The Minnesota Reformer’s Christopher Ingraham writes, “The justices relied, in part, on the testimony of a Minnesota State Patrol officer who claimed that drug users keep bong water “for future use… either drinking it or shooting it in the veins.” Many attempts have been made to eliminate the bong water clause, but so far the state has only exempted bong water in quantities that are 4 ounces or less. Beske acknowledges she is guilty of having a substance abuse problem, which she says began while leaving an abusive ex. But she maintains she had no drugs on her at the time of the arrest.
