Dry On Long Island. No Northern Lights To See Or Smoke.

Hey, just turned 30. Life is a bummer. Then reports came in the northern lights would be visible so I took it as a sign it was time to give our jolly green friend another go 'round but it turns out barely leaving your house for seven years leaves the old contact list a bit empty.

It's Brentwood, I thought. I should be able to throw up a handful of bills, scream "quarter of dank please" and have a pocketful of tasty nuggets before the money hits the ground. I asked a waiter who, frankly, looked like a child to my old man eyes if he knew where the good bud was. The polite young man assured me he did but at the promised hour the ashy bastard was nowhere to be found. Just like the aurora borealis.

Day 3 and I loiter at a gas station full of paraphernalia but no one comes inside. Everyone pays at the pump with credit cards. Yet another case of convenient technology ruining human social bonds. Doesn't mastercard know I'm trying get blazed? Will we never be free of their corporate tyranny?

Late night relocation to local bodega. It's across from an apartment complex and full of likely suspects. I mean, there's an always empty 24 hour pizza place next door. The whole strip mall is a front. Discretely and with great panache I strike up conversations. No small task for a pathological introvert who looks like a former linebacker turned mexican assassin. The bodega folks are amused and friendly but coy. Only when I've given up hope does a stock boy tell me he has what I need. We settle on a price and nearby location.

By the dumpsters I wait. Two men approach, their heads swiveling in every direction but mine. They're making me feel overdressed. I wasn't raised on Long Island and so am no stranger to back alley bad vibes. They get about nine feet away before I ask if they know the stock boy. This prompts one of the gentleman to reach into his pocket for a shiny sliver of I don't know what because I broke the fuck out. I never ignore my spider-sense.

Sober and defeated I sit. I'm a grown man, god dammit. All I wanted to do was incinerate a little plant matter while the sun bombards the atmosphere with radiation.

This is why I never leave the house.

EDIT- This is my first post here so this seemed the most appropriate place for it. Apologies if it should be elsewhere.

 

Oh man, even if I tracked down a skate park they'd probably make me prove my skate skills before hooking me up. I'd be on youtube as fat, old man breaks neck before the ambulance arrived. Might try colleges though. Maybe just stroll around with my nose to the wind and hope. Would dressing like a professor make my search more effective or less effective?

 

Thanks for the advice, folks. Approaching someone in a park seems like an even more awkward encounter than the bodega or college campus. I thought about hitting a bar or something but in my head all these potential hook ups end with me taking a blade to the ribs. I think for the next few days I'm going to dick around on the forum rebuilding my confidence and desire for thc. Or move to California.

I live in a town notorious for marijuana availability. At least if I lived in a Mormon compound or something I might not take the failure so personally.

I generally wear blank t-shirts and regular pants. Wearing images makes me feel like a billboard but maybe it'd be worth it to pick up a relevant shirt. Maybe a Help Wanted sign in the shape of a cannabis leaf?

 

@coolcal- Yeah, NY. Home of Billy Joel and 2 of the worst airports in America.

@sweetpot- Pot leaf help wanted sign would actually be a pretty easy design. Maybe I'll put it together tomorrow when I have a little time. It's either a brilliant idea or a guaranteed stop and frisk. Probably both.

 

@got- I've thought about posting on Craigslist but now they require phone verification for posting ads and I balked. I'm also not sure if it will increase or decrease my odds of being ventilated. There were 2 people I got in touch with who I know for sure have connections but I haven't spoken to either of them in years and still haven't. Not that I blame them. It's a hermit's life for me.

@sticky- I know. I know. My next door neighbor probably has a jungle of ganja growing in his basement but it's eluded me so far. Gonna keep trying though.

By the by, this place has been pretty welcoming all things considered. So many posts about trolls, lax rules regarding abuse and general douchebaggery but everyone's been chill so far. Right on.

 

If I can't get my hands on anything this week then saving my pennies for a closet grow, despite my shady, black thumbed past with plants, is definitely on the agenda. Thanks for the heads up on CL. Figured 420 was common enough to be THE buzz word for popo. Will give it a search.

 

My pipe is empty still. Went to the nearest head shop and had a pretty good rapport with the staff but it seemed brutish to just come out and ask. Felt like a little more foreplay was necessary. I did spend a completely unnecessary $60 on a pipe, scale, papers and tips. Maybe soon I'll have something to pack, weigh and roll.

A friend of a friend has been swearing up and down for a week that they've "got me" but I wouldn't rely on them to tie my shoes let alone procure me illicit substances. On the off chance probability breaks in my favor I bet this person will overcharge and smoke me out. Leaving me in the same spot. You just can't trust some junkies.

I'm not really a heavy toker but somehow the search has consumed me. Been lurking Craigslist. I should just take up knitting or something.