Smoky Halls - A story from The 1st Annual Michigan Caregivers Cup

Sunday morning, at my vendor booth in the convention area of The Michigan Caregivers Cup, the lawyer at the booth next door turned to talk to me. She wore a black skirt and blouse with a red jacket and heels. Her makeup was crisp and hair smoothed. “Oh my God,” she said. “I woke up in the middle of the night, and my eyes burned.” She blinked demonstrably. “I looked in the mirror, and my eyes were dark red. The whole room was filled with smoke. I had to stuff a towel under the door just so I could sleep.”

I figured it was pure exaggeration, the kind people who haven't been around weed seem prone to.

“What floor are you on?” I asked.

“Sixth.”

“Huh, same as me.” I thought of how I hadn't seen it. Then I remembered the large machine that appeared in the hall for cleaning the air. Perhaps she'd called the front desk and demanded it.

A customer approached my table. I turned toward him and gave him the sales pitch I gave everyone who walked by.

His eyes widened as I concluded the thirty second synopsis of my novel. “Sounds cool.” He eyed the merchandise on my table, shirts in ten colors featuring the tropical cover art of my book, others with the black and white interior work stretching across the chest, the life cycle of a marijuana plant from seed to smoke. “I wish you luck,” he said, then turned and walked on.

The lawyer's story came to me again, and I thought about how tired I'd been when I'd awaken. I'd gotten nine and half hours of sleep, had a cup of coffee, and still couldn't make my way down to the convention without a Volcano bag. Could she be right? Could I have stonily slept right through the smoke fest?

Another customer approached, a bulky woman of thirty wearing a blue fleece, and I again spouted the quick synopsis of my book to pique her interest. She smiled, then stared at the intense cover art before moving along.

The process continued, selling books or t-shirts occasionally and offering to sign them. People asked me about the Volcano Vaporizer on my table, about marijuana cultivation, consumption, and the law. At one point, a friendly gentleman in tie-dyed overalls even slipped me a nug of his private stock (White Widow x Durban Poison). A half hour passed, and some people I vaporized with the evening before approached. They wore wide smiles, like so many people there.

“Hey,” said one. He wore a bright vest and shades. “We ended up back on your floor last night. Man, there were clouds in the hall.”

I laughed as my mind scrambled to arrange the story. Contrary to beliefs about lawyers, this one had spoke truth. The whole hall was cloudy. Though I've never thought one could get high from second hand smoke, perhaps it's possible at a Cup. Hopefully, it doesn't dissuade the convention center from hosting future marijuana conventions.