Monday, July 9, 2012
No Joint Sweeter Than The Disneyworld Joint
Just got my ass back from vacation in Florida. I did miss a chance to meet Miss Erin Palette due to my own foolishness and inebriation, but other than that it more or less without a hitch.
Anyway, today's sordid tale is how I went about getting high in Disney World.
There are smoking areas all over the park but there are less than there used to be; I had to struggle to find one. The process began the previous day when I rolled myself up a slick secret agent using a marlboro and a couple of Marleys. I slit it up the middle and filled it with a bit of Indiana's Finest, repaired it with a couple of papers, capped it at the end with a little tobacco, and hollowed out the filter with the tip of a knife to let the smoke flow through. It looked exactly like a cigarette, but that didn't assuage my paranoia enough so I ended up hiding the thing in my wizard's hat-because no one ever searches your mouse ear wizard's hat.
Anyway, I got through the security check without a hitch and went through most of the morning without smoking while I reconnoitered. In the end, the place was at max capacity that day so all of the smoking areas were full of motherfuckers and I had almost given up by the time I found a place. It was a spot along the dock right at the edge of Frontierland, where you could watch the steamboats go by. It used to be a marked smoking area on my last trip, but no more-however, that didn't stop the wrinkled old Indochinese dude that was puffing away on a Camel down there with nobody saying a goddamn thing to him. Most importantly, the heat kept everyone else in the shade a little ways away so it was basically me and this old dude, and I leaned up on the rail next to him and sparked up.
That ol' boy knew what was up; his nostrils flared and he looked over to give me this big freaking grin and had absolutely no front teeth, like pink gumline all the way from eye to eye. I couldn't help it; I busted out chuckling and offered him a hit, but he declined. And we both sat there on a dock below the tourists smoking in a non smoking area, him with his unfiltered camel and me with my joint sweltering on the bottom dock and nobody even looked at us.
There isn't a point to this, if you are looking for one-except that not even the might of Disney security is impenetrable. I managed to be pretty stoned for the Philharmagic, which was kind of intense; 3D is much more believable when you are high as fuck. And it was nice getting to put my arm around all those princesses-demurely above the waist, of course. Also, it makes the subpar food a lot more tolerable.
Next time, I'm eating some mushrooms.