“You wanna hit this?”
“This” was a super-sized bomber—a blunt-sized joint with a line of rosin running through it, turbo-charged with the addition of some kief.
I stared through the thick haze of smoke and thought about the question for an uncharacteristically long period. It wasn’t that I was too high, but rather that I had utterly maxed out my interest in all things cannabis—talking about it, looking at it, smelling it, and even consuming it.
On December 9, I was in Santa Rosa, California, to attend my first Emerald Cup, a two-day festival celebrating Northern California cannabis growers. I had been told it was a must-attend event, but scheduling had not allowed the opportunity in past years.
The Cup is, as its name suggests, a competition for cannabis and cannabis products. I’m missing the gene that moves me to care about awards for cannabis, so I don’t have any insight as to who won what, but congratulations to all.
I can tell you I have never in my life seen so many entries for such a competition, displayed with museum-quality care in multiple lighted cases, showcasing row upon row of samples from the entries. I stopped taking pictures after the first three.
