It is finally and indisputably fucking SPRING. After a long winter, there is nothing better than getting all spliffed out on a Saturday and stepping out your door into the city. You know, in the suburbs, people are miserable because when they open the door and look outside at their yards, they can’t see anything except the shit they have to do: Cut the grass, pull the weeds, paint the fence. That’s a terrible thing to feel when you’re high. But in the city—especially if you rent—when you open the door, nothing is in your control anymore. And if you are buzzing, all the better to let the sun shine on your pasty pale skin and feel the wind blow through the hairs on your arms as you pass through the masses. It is astoundingly great.
Some of the best places to walk around high are the streets surrounding the Lexington Market, which, on a warm Saturday, are teeming with life, people bustling in so many directions and with so many purposes and stories that one is overwhelmed in a Whitmanesque rapture of the multitude. And you know you’ll never be the highest person walking around at the market, no matter how high you get, so you can relax a bit and listen to the street preachers going on about the end of the world. Then you can belly up to the bar in Faidley’s for some oysters and watch the people pass as you sip on a beer, soaking in all the wonder that is the end of winter.
We are against driving when intoxicated (really, we are against driving altogether), but riding a bike is another matter (we don’t encourage you to ride high, so chill out bike-advocacy organizations, we are just saying that if one were to do it, one would likely enjoy it). Pick a destination—Druid Hill Park, say—pack up a bowl, put your helmet on, and set out (if you have to make it up the hill to Druid Hill—duh, that’s why it’s called Druid HILL—we recommend that you use a vaporizer instead of a spliff) onto the road as the sunshine sends dappled patterns through the light canopy of leaves and you’ll feel great, like that guy Chris Elliott back in the opening to the show Get a Life where R.E.M. played in the credits.
And if you have someone else drive, hit the woods or the beach—just don’t leave Maryland, you know, because our surrounding states have not yet decriminalized the good stuff.
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