I preyed myself from out in front of the telly and made my way back to the Power Zone, where Jorge Cervantes was scheduled to talk about his new grow DVD. I like Jorge a lot, I learned many of my basic skills from his book "Indoor Marijuana Horticulture (The Indoor Bible)." I can still vividly recall getting his book in the mail and ripping open the box immediately. My world was forever changed on that day because I'd taken the first major step to becoming a grower. The essence of that moment was rising in my chest like how anticipation does just before fulfillment.
I was hoping that Jorge would be a bit more comprehensive about his cultivation topics than Arjan had been, but what Cup organizers had already put out there sucked so I wasn't holding my breath.
This a Guru on drugs...
Any questions?
The crowd had begun to swell again and I was toasted as a tribe of tasty tater tots toasting in a toaster oven. [The joint of White Widow that I'd smoked several hours earlier wasn't through doing something to me so to make things a little better I walked over to the bar and ordered a Heineken. 
] The lights began to dim and Jorge walked out onto the stage with his trademark dreds and black cap. Everyone clapped and cheered because the Guru had arrived.
After a quick hello he immediately dove into a slideshow of various grows around Spain. I'm a huge fan of marijuana as some of you might know but I could really care a less about photos. A bud in the hand is worth a trillion times more than any bud in a picture. He spent nearly forty-five minutes talking about his friends that grew around Spain. All nice and beautiful plants but there was no knowledge in any of it. That seems to be a theme over at High Times, they have more flash than substance. Their magazines are filled with glossy pictures of succulent buds and a small smattering of grow information. [Note: Jorge was obviously blown out of his fucking mind because at times he would ramble. I get that at the Cannabis Cup we're supposed to be smoking a lot of weed, but when you smoke so much that you become incoherent, that's just ridiculous. We all paid good money for a full experience and by that point I felt seriously ripped off and greatly disappointed. I really thought he'd have some insights on gardening but he didn't, nothing, nada, zilch, zero. I could have stayed home and just bought his DVD if I wanted to look at someone else's garden pics, pathetic.]
By the time Jorge had finished and the lights had come up again, it was hard to hide my feeling of disappointment. He reminded Cup attendees that his DVD could be purchased at the Power Zone but by that point I was making my way out of the Club to a shuttle. I wanted to get back to my hotel to try out some hashish I'd bought at another shop earlier that day, as the shuttle lurched and rocked along the roads the lights of the city provided a soothing distraction. I pulled out my spoon while the silhouettes of neon and crazy streetlights traced across the glass and I loaded it with G-13 Haze. I was officially through with the Cannabis Cup as an event. Though I would venture back to the Power Zone--"to vote"--I'd mentally removed myself from their remaining events and disappeared into the night.
I was still in Amsterdam and that's all that mattered.