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.

1st Annual Michigan Caregivers Cup Report

The 1st Annual Michigan Caregivers Cup, January 29-31, like many marijuana expos, looked like it would be over before it started. Three days before it kicked off, Mike Hughes of High Times broke a story announcing a local prosecutor had shut down the judging portion of the event. While, unfortunately, this occurred, most of the exposition rolled on as scheduled and was still a success.

The kibosh the prosecutor laid down was a difficult situation for organizers to deal with. Many people had paid to judge the event, and competitors had already prepared their buds. Therefore, money had to be refunded, and those hoping to judge, or have their medicine judged, were greatly disappointed

However, another issue seemingly tied with the prosecutor's meddling was hard felt by many more. The lone seed breeder scheduled to vend dropped out, and many people who had come in search of seeds were stuck without. Some in the local government didn't want seeds there and, therefore, prevented sick people from acquiring their medicine. Until Michigan's state government allows people to sell clones and seeds, many patients will still have trouble getting their medicine.

Still, the event rolled on, and there were many positives. Marijuana growers and consumers were able to meet their peers and exchange information, whether the people were attendees, guest speakers, or vendors. Though I was there to hawk my novel, I spent much time explaining my views on particular topics related to the plant and was able to hear the views of others. There were always questions about the Volcano Vaporizer, which sat on my table. By the time I left, I felt the maker, Storz & Bickel, owed me for promotion.

As a vendor, I was unable to see the myriad of speakers at the event. However, I can say that there were plenty of experts manning tables in the vendor area. Besides people selling paraphernalia, grow supplies, and instructional material, there were numerous organizations present to answer questions dealing with all aspects of medical marijuana, from producing and consuming it to legal issues.

And the attendees, they were great. I met a whole lot of nice people I'd like to stay in contact with and others I hope to see in the future.

All in all, it was a pleasure to see so many growers and consumers in Michigan. In my neighboring state of Wisconsin, many of our growers and users have to stay hidden for fear of the law. And while local government had shut down parts of the event, the parts that remained were great. A cup may not have been awarded, but the attendees got to meet their peers, exchange information, and try each other's green. In my book, that's a success.

* For a local news video about the event, visit: http://www.myfoxdetroit.com/dpp/news/medical-marijuana-expo-underway

My booth is in the background at the beginning.

Don't Fly with Vaporizers

A few days after Christmas, I had to head to New York from Madison, WI to visit my girlfriend’s family. I recently had a sinus infection, so the Volcano was essential. I’m one of those stoners who’s virtually made a total switch from smoking to vaporizing, anyway. Hell, there’s a Volcano hidden on the cover of my book, Anarcho Grow.

I’m no dummy, either. I soaked the machine’s pieces in alcohol before leaving, the press and bag attachments. All spotless. As I waited for my bag to pass through the conveyor belt along with my jacket and shoes, I had no fear. However, I wasn’t surprised when a TSA worker said, “Let’s send it through again. Get another picture.”

They’ll take it out. I’ll explain that it’s an herb vaporizer and be on my way, I thought.

Wrong. They knew what it was, or had an idea, and searched my bag thoroughly for pot, hoping they could bring a charge. The process was taking long enough that I took a seat nearby. Twenty minutes passed before the TSA worker approached and told me the sheriff had been called. He said something quickly about paraphernalia. Something else I couldn’t make out.

“What?” I asked.

Again, he spoke quickly.

“What?”

“Nitro glycerin. It tested positive for it.”

“You’re joking?” I said.

“I never joke about my job,” he said sternly.

I waited uneasily for another twenty minutes before the sheriff arrived. The TSA employee allowed me to pack the rest of the things in my bag while the Volcano and its accoutrements were set aside. Eventually, a short chubby man wearing a crew cut and mustache over oily skin showed. He looked plucked from a stock comedy flick.

“What’s this machine?” he asked.

“A vaporizer.”

“What do you use with it?”

“Herbs, chamomile, echinacea…”

“What?” he said.

“Chamomile and Echinacea.”

“Tea?”

“The herbs can be used for tea, yes.”

He opened my grinder and inspected it. “Pretty clean,” he said. He looked at me. “You got some I.D.”

I handed him my license.

“You can take a seat over there,” he said, pointing to the chair I’d come to know.

I glanced at the clock. My plane was to board in eighteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes passed before he returned. He first spoke with a TSA agent. I heard the words “no priors,” and wondered if they’d illegally steal my machine.

The cop approached with the Volcano, its attachments, and my I.D. in a gray plastic bin. “Here,” he said.

“I’m free to go?”

“Yeah, where are you going?” he said.

“New York.”

“Visiting friends there?”

“Something like that.”

I’d been harassed by rogues who could legally do nothing. One man had even made a false claim that my luggage tested positive for explosives. All to try to bring a pot charge on me. Though it’s within one’s rights to travel with a clean Volcano, you may want to forgo it to avoid the hassle. TSA employees are after pot heads just as much terrorists. Maybe even more so.