First, a few of the many tweets that followed “Thomas Friedman eating brownies with his daughter’s roommate at Yale”:
The world is flat. 2.0. Everything is flat. The floor is flat. The walls are flat. I am flat. **Please stop looking at me**
— sarah jeong (@sarahjeong) June 4, 2014
The whole brilliant parody is here. Meanwhile, a reader gets serious:
Dowd’s edible OD sounds a bit like my experience this year in Seattle. While the legal pot retail outlets have not yet opened, some entrepreneurs just dived into the murky legal gray area and started selling pot direct to consumers. I tried out Winterlife Co-op a couple months ago after reading about it in The Stranger and experienced both the improvements and pitfalls of legalization.
The good part: I got to look up the varieties on their online menu to see reviews and descriptions on leafly.com and settled on Sour Grapes, which has lived up to its great reviews. The delivery guy drove out to my apartment and we made the trade in his truck, where he had a whole cabinet of inventory neatly wrapped and labeled. I bought a quarter ounce of pot for what seemed a fair price, and threw in one chocolate edible for laughs. It was all thrilling but felt very safe and legit. The pot quality was miles above the crud I’d had on the east coast.
The not-so-great part:
During intermission at the Pacific Northwest Ballet, the missus and I split the little chocolate edible (no bigger than a miniature York patty). It had no dosage instructions, and it was so small I figured after splitting it we might just enjoy the scenery of a Midsummer Night’s Dream a little more intensely.
Wrong. I just started feeling odd toward the end of the show, an hour later. Soon after getting home, I was reeling with dizziness, and my mind couldn’t maintain a train of thought for more than a few seconds. Kneeling down to leash the dog for a short walk, I almost just toppled over. By that time the missus was in bed, and I flopped down as soon as the dog was walked, figuring I’d fall and hit my head if I kept walking around. I watched the walls spin up into the ceiling, then reset and spin again, over and over. It reminded me of my drunkest nights in freshman year of college, but a little less nauseous. Eventually the spinning slowed down enough for us to drift off.
My takeaway? As a consumer: eat edibles in the smallest possible increments, ramping up till you get the feeling you want. Don’t think just cause you’re a big guy you’ll need a lot (or even half a York patty’s worth). As for policy: yeah, some sort of labeling, with contents and dosage recommendations, would be a great place to start with edibles. I’ve smoked pot maybe 15 times before in my life and this felt like an entirely different, more potent drug.
I do think that buying it in such a normalized manner, like a pizza delivery, made me more trusting and naive. I probably wouldn’t have tried it alone the first time otherwise; like most of my early pot experiences I would have done it with a trusted friend who could guide me through what to expect. I’m usually not an idiot but some idiot-proof labeling would have helped me out on that chocolate.
Previous commentary on the regulation of edibles here.