Myrtle Beach Blunt

It's time for me to "fess-up" about my absence. I was MIA in Miami, beached in South Carolina and off the grid in Canada, for the past couple of months. Mixing business with pleasure, as I made my yearly summer tour of North America, to see friends and meet business partners. The time flies during these excursion and I lose track of the days, as each one blurs into another to form a hazy, dream-like, set of memories, which last me the entire year, until it's time to travel north again.

Amongst my fondest memories from my summer 2009 tour are some amazing smoking sessions and some amazing weed. The Miami grass seemed like the same strain of Kryptonite that I scored last year and likely was, as the Florida grow-op has had such success with it that they've cloned the strain and kept it growing. Then in BC my timing was on and I scored a huge sack of freshly harvested, immaculately manicured, and perfectly cured, Purple Kush, which was as tasty and powerful as anything that I've ever smoked but by that point in my tour I'd been smoking for a few weeks and developed a tolerance, so I was able to still hold a conversation, unlike a few other people I shared the wicked bud with.

My biggest surprise happened with a new friend in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, introduced to me by an old friend who's not a chronic smoker like myself. After attending a business meeting with the cool dude I just met a couple hours previously, he asked if I wanted to get high? Sure I'd love to, I replied, and he showed me some huge outdoor grown buds that looked rather common and smelled like a mid-grade herb. Not wanting to sound like a weed-snob I really didn't expect too much more of a buzz than what the regs in my own pocket was giving me. I was so mistaken. We parked at a mutual friends house, right on the beach and walked to the dunes to fire up a fat blunt that my new friend had expertly rolled. We talked and quaffed and quaffed some more, until there was about half left then put it out for later. Soon we were back in the car with a mission to go buy some cold beer and wine for the pool party we were attending, when we arrived at the store I realized that I was too stoned to go inside. I was legless! This hadn't happened to me since arriving in Amsterdam in 2007, after a 3 month smoking hiatus and going straight for the White Widow. The Myrtle Beach Blunt had wasted me, put me on my ass and made me paranoid and f_cked-up. Later at the pool party I couldn't wait to fire-up the last half of that fat blunt.