Buying marijuana Mauren

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Buying marijuana Mauren

Maureen Dowd travelled to Colorado in January, ate a bit too much of a marijuana-laced chocolate bar and proceeded to have a Valley-of-the-Dolls-style meltdown in her hotel room. Here's how she describes the experience , external in her Wednesday New York Times column:. I felt a scary shudder go through my body and brain. I barely made it from the desk to the bed, where I lay curled up in a hallucinatory state for the next eight hours. I was thirsty but couldn't move to get water. Or even turn off the lights. I was panting and paranoid, sure that when the room-service waiter knocked and I didn't answer, he'd call the police and have me arrested for being unable to handle my candy. I strained to remember where I was or even what I was wearing, touching my green corduroy jeans and staring at the exposed-brick wall. As my paranoia deepened, I became convinced that I had died and no one was telling me. Dowd pivots to talk about the dangers of pot overdoses and the 'darker side of unleashing a drug as potent as marijuana on a horde of tourists of all ages and tolerance levels seeking a mellow buzz'. She says there are current efforts in the Colorado legislature to regulate the potency and consistency of marijuana products, as well as to ensure that packaging of pot-laced candy and cookies can't be accidentally eaten by children. Dowd follows in the footsteps of fellow Times columnist David Brooks, who wrote in January about how he used to have fun smoking pot as a teenager, but he grew tired of hanging out with stoners. He then took a position against marijuana legalisation. Brooks was mercilessly mocked for that column - and Dowd is getting a similar reception. There's just something so tempting about imagining straight-laced paper-of-record columnists high as kites. Writer Sarah Jeong has perhaps the most inspired response to the Dowd column, with an part Twitter post , external in which she imagines what Times columnist Thomas 'world-is-flat' Friedman would write after eating a pot brownie:. Countries with McDonald's don't go to war with other countries with McDonald's! Until they did. I could sure use some McDonald's right now. Silicon Valley is like an upside-down-reverse Venezuela and it won't stop watching me from the shadows. The Huffington Post's Jason Linkins says , external that Dowd 'went Cookie Monster' on the marijuana chocolate bar and partook of some out-of-date concern trolling , external. Colorado, he writes , external , already has made progress in addressing Dowd's concerns about regulation of the pot industry. Pot is not without its dangers, says , external the Daily Caller's Jim Treacher. Salon's Katie McDonough writes , external :. Maureen Dowd's column did not send me into a hallucinatory state for eight hours and leave me questioning whether or not I was dead. She just wrote a kind of confusing editorial that used a really long anecdote about her experience of being too high on pot chocolate as a way to make a point about the apparent dangers of legal pot in Colorado. She says that while Dowd makes a reasonable point about the need to understand the nature of drugs, 'it's common sense'. Several other commentators pointed out an interesting word in the ninth paragraph of Dowd's piece:. I reckoned that the fact that I was not a regular marijuana smoker made me more vulnerable, and that I should have known better. To load Comments you need to enable JavaScript in your browser. Image source, Getty Images. By Anthony Zurcher. Writer Sarah Jeong has perhaps the most inspired response to the Dowd column, with an part Twitter post , external in which she imagines what Times columnist Thomas 'world-is-flat' Friedman would write after eating a pot brownie: Countries with McDonald's don't go to war with other countries with McDonald's! Several other commentators pointed out an interesting word in the ninth paragraph of Dowd's piece: I reckoned that the fact that I was not a regular marijuana smoker made me more vulnerable, and that I should have known better. Not a 'regular' marijuana smoker? Don't let David Brooks find out. Comments can not be loaded To load Comments you need to enable JavaScript in your browser. View comments.

Maureen Dowd really misses the point about marijuana

Buying marijuana Mauren

Maureen Dowd went to a pot dispensary in Colorado, perhaps on the New York Times' dime, then ate a square of marijuana-infused chocolate. Nothing happened within the next minute or so, so she ate more. Even Viagra, or any drug in a capsule form, as much as its manufacturers might like it to work immediately, takes a bit for the capsule's coating to be dissolved by stomach acids. The contents then need to move along the digestive system, be broken down into their component parts, and be absorbed into the bloodstream. A chocolate marijuana edible contains fat, which will slow it even further. But then I felt a scary shudder go through my body and brain. I barely made it from the desk to the bed, where I lay curled up in a hallucinatory state for the next eight hours But at least, unlike overdosing on any other kind of drugs fatal Tylenol ODs are not uncommon , she could rest easy knowing the effects of the pot would wear off, which it did, although not as quickly as she would have liked. Instead of being chastened for her miscalculation, however, in the New York Times' op-ed page, she emerged on fire about the dangers of pot. She railed that her candy bar should have been cut into smaller pieces for 'novices' like her, and goes on to cite a chilling Reefer Madness-type scenario of a Denver man who 'ate pot-infused Karma Kandy and And conveniently, she also didn't mention a possible other factor in the murder besides Colorado's loose gun laws, see Columbine, Aurora, and Arapahoe , that the killer had also taken prescription pain meds. Lester Grinspoon, M. Along the way, Dr. Grinspoon was enthusiastic about the potential for pot as a life enhancer; he also encouraged me to explore the recreational side of it, especially because it might make me more creative, like his friend Carl Sagan. Sagan was such a pothead, Grinspoon said, that he originally started his cannabis research in an attempt to warn his friend how much he was endangering his health--then pivoted the other way when he came to realized how, even as a Harvard physician, he'd been thoroughly brainwashed by unscientific anti-pot propaganda. Thus, when on the way to an artist's residency in the wilds of Wyoming, when the tiny commuter flight I was supposed to take from Denver was cancelled, as well as the next two flights, which meant I was stuck for the duration, I caught a cab from the airport headed to Medicine Man. It's the cannabis dispensary closest to the airport, and I was curious to see what kind of stoner mayhem I'd find. As Dowd wrote, 'the state is also coming to grips with the darker side of unleashing a drug as potent as marijuana on a horde of tourists. The taxi dropped me off at an unassuming storefront in a suburban area. It had bars on the windows like a pawn shop and looked slightly forbidding from the outside. Medicine Man services both the medical and recreational crowd, but you need a state medical ID to enter the medicinal area. Before I could enter the dispensary at all, a cordial guard checked my ID to make sure I was over Inside, there must have been some kind of massive air filtration system, because despite the baskets of bud, the trays of plants, there was no telltale odor; when our son's grower used to bring him his medicine, the house would smell like a pot factory hours after he left. After getting over the novelty of what was being sold, I saw I was in merely a clean well-lit space, there was an orderly line flanked by a display of Medicine Man apparel, a window into one of their grow rooms, and a daily menu board of what was 'fresh' as if at some new hipster restaurant in Brooklyn. While in line, I chatted with the various consumers the medical dispensary is in an entirely separate area off-limits to the retail buyers. The guy with the gray ponytail was on vacation and stopping here en route to Oklahoma. He planned to smoke nights to relax after driving. A well-dressed middle aged man said his medical license had expired, so he was using recreation mj to tide him over. Another person was a local who just like to smoke. Ahead of me, there were a bunch of jockish male college students, about the most animated of all the buyers, who'd flown in. Everyone was relaxed. I was given permission to take pictures, a few of the consumers willingly, if not happily, posed. The staff seemed very proud of what they were doing. You waited until your name was called, and, like at a Chase Bank, you walked up to your teller. Thanks to my son, I know my way around indicas and sativas. But I was curious about the expertise of the workers and asked what I should get. I wanted an edible for the evening to relax with. My clerk had several piercings, including a dramatic septum piercing, multiple tattoos, and a grave and professional mien. The shelves were dizzyingly full of products: open baskets of bud, edibles, tinctures, capsules, as well as accessories such as vaporizers. On the menu they also had a number of quotidian products that utilize cannabis' various healing and antioxidant properties, including a shea butter massage balm that has no THC, that the clerk said was great for sore muscles. I was tempted, but saw the container was too large for TSA standards, which also reminded me that even in this friendly suburban retail outlet, cannabis was still considered to be a controlled substance by the federal government. When I'd asked one of the people in line about edibles versus smoking, the gray ponytailed guy explained that edibles give you a more sustained 'body buzz,' which makes it handy for, say, camping. It's also cheaper, as you're not literally burning up our stash. The other recreationalists mentioned that pot, smoked or not, makes food taste better, helps you enjoy music, maybe that creativity thing was true. Grinspoon also always unabashedly told me 'it makes everything better, sex, you name it. It also seems to make budget deficits better. Colorado is raking in the revenue, and I can see why. Regulated pot is expensive. Some of the candy-like edibles were the cheapest, and in a fit of nostalgia I went for a grape-flavored pixie stick. The vibe in the dispensary was upbeat, professional, quiet. No hallucinators or obvious paranoiacs. Everything was neat. There was no Bob Marley playing. With all the coming and going, the line stayed more or less at capacity, but orderly. There were a lot more sleeve tattoos than at, say, a Starbucks, but the employees worked diligently at their posts, I wasn't in some hippy-dippy pot Shangri-la, but in a well-run business that accepts credit cards. In terms of admonitory guidance, I had been considering buying a few cannabis capsules to try, my guide did indeed point out that since I wasn't a regular user, I should probably start with a fraction of a capsule, and that the edibles might be a better and more economical way to go. In the end, I forewent the capsules--if my flight did indeed get out of Denver the next day, I'd have to dump this expensive purchase into the 'Weed Amnesty' box at the airport before going through TSA. That evening, the airline sent us sad, delayed travelers to a similarly sad Red Lion, without the room service and chardonnay of Maureen Dowd's abode, where any exposed brick they were indeed under construction was not intentionally done. I took care not to down my entire pixie stick at once. It tasted quite good and I believe used organic sugar. My son's mj strains are bred for pain and anxiety, and I generally feel nice on it, but not any nicer than, say, a walk outside. At that particular time, there was no outside, no sidewalks in the industrial tundra the Denver Red Lion is in, only freeway and parking lot. I had some anxiety that I'd be stuck in Denver forever I was on my third cancelled flight and possibly missing my residency. The recreational marijuana was a nice enough, smokeless way to send me off to sleep in a room continually being infiltrated by headlights from the freeway, the endless dinging of the elevator, the crunchy pillow. I did experience a nice little buzz, for which I was grateful, and by the morning, it was gone. If I'd at any point felt over-buzzed, I would have taken out one of my charcoal capsules, which I always carry because I have celiac disease, and charcoal basically absorbs anything you eat, whether gluten infraction or too much pot. During our son's medical marijuana adventure, I would often test his products because he can't articulate his experience--and I know from experience, charcoal directly counteracts the high. I eschewed ineffectual and dangerous prescription drugs for cannabis for my child because it is one of the safest substances on the planet safer than alcohol, caffeine, water from a toxicity standpoint , but it indeed can have temporary unpleasant side effects including altered perception. I wouldn't make fun of anyone who had a freakout, I empathize with the obviously frightening experience Dowd had. But I object to her making a bogeyman out of the marijuana and Colorado's legalization of it as responsible for her bad experience. She ends the column with an interview with Bob Eschino, an edibles maker, who incredibly, to her mind, doesn't see anything wrong with delicious pot products, and therefore doesn't wish to follow the suggestion that he should make edibles unappealing to combat overconsumption. In this I cannot help but recall my friend 'Gene' my all-purpose male pseudonym and his pita chip problem. Gene once came to a party very, very hungry, and began decimating a nearby bowl of pita chips. He ate many more pita chips than would be deemed sensible for someone of his weight, gender, and age. But it is, however, a free country. He subsequently threw up pita chips in an hours'-long fit of regurgitation that sounded like a moose was being flogged to death; in fact, a few times during this, Gene said death was looking quite appealing. Even now, just looking at pita chips brings back the PTSD of that day. Gene has, indeed, shown us the dark side of pita chips. But heroically, in order that others possibly more moderate in temperament can continue to enjoy pita chips, especially because they're so great for scooping up hummus and even guacamole, he does not call for them to be prohibited or regulated or even labeled in any way: CAUTION: overconsumption may cause uncontrollable vomiting. Find her on Twitter , Instagram and Tiktok. By Marie Myung-Ok Lee. Related Articles.

Buying marijuana Mauren