The streets of New York City have no shortage of unusual sightings or smells. While some are pleasant, others are hideous. I’ve noticed one particular odor repeatedly in the past year, and I’ve watched it happen live in my own hood. Is marijuana making a comeback? Or maybe, it’s never gone out of style.
Doobie smokers range in age from teens to seniors, and the therapeutic green may be the ideal medicine for their big-city nerves. Relaxation in New York requires assistance at times, or at least a little hallucinogenic push.
The abundance of pot aroma is prevalent in a variety of Manhattan neighborhoods. With this amount of popularity, I ask the question. Should Mary Jane be legalized in New York City? Even Mayor B has confessed to lighting up a joint on occasion. Obviously, this grass isn’t a poor man’s drug.
According to the New York Times, low-level arrests for marijuana possession are on the rise for the 7th year in the Big Apple. Often, users are caught during other random searches. The NYPD are instructed to avoid arrest unless the drugs are in plain view. Is this a logical approach to control usage?
This is New York, after all. Anything goes here, including alcoholic beverages in brown bags and a couple of kids smoking Maui wowie on Riverside Drive. High-rent zip codes enjoy their share, but arrests in these parts of town are fewer. Recently, I attended a party in an Upper East Side mansion where pot brownies were the dessert of choice. I didn’t indulge, but had a second glass of red instead.
Like pizza, Chinese food, or other eats on a take-out menu, marijuana can be delivered in Manhattan. Call, place the order, and schedule the time; the deliveryman shows up with the goods. No need to shop for roach on the streets—this is the city where any thing is available at any time, literally. All that’s required is a phone number, valid address, and cash only, please.
We can believe the myth that weed kills brain cells, but alcohol impairs brain function, and every block in Manhattan has a bar or five. The forgetfulness associated with liquor consumption has kept the pubs, taverns, and nightclubs in business. Absent-mindedness puts a tough, stressful day in Gotham far in the distance, and a martini simply speeds up the process.
Perhaps New Yorkers require chemical dependency to survive years of living the big city lifestyle. Tight quarters, hellish commutes, power struggles, and nightmare dates are more than the average thirty-something can hack. For many, cocktails aren’t enough, and for others, they’re too much. Unlike their drunken counterparts, weed smokers have stated they don’t get hangovers. Makes sense why stoners prefer a smoke to a drink, but the munchies are inevitable.
Boring gal that I am, I’ve never tried it or had the desire, and my appetite is big enough without cannibis assistance. I can barely stand the smell; so smoking hash isn’t even in the realm of a possibility for me. But if a couple of puffs of the herbal grass can alleviate stress, and offer a much-needed break from reality in the chaotic caldron of Manhattan, I say hide the joint and keep walking.
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