New Maryland — In the middle of last month, the Senate voted 52-29 in favour of Bill C-45, lighting the path for legal recreational cannabis within the country.
Most rational people would assume the recent shift in policy and attitude would fuel ecstasy among the stoner subcultures, but as 17-year-old hedonist Steven Dow points out, socially approved pot may not be the clambake people imagine.
To achieve a higher understanding of the possible drawbacks of legalization, The Manatee seshed with the young Dow near his parents’ suburban Applewood home to get a teenaged perspective.
“I’m actually, honestly, really worried about how it’ll hit my street cred,” said Dow, as he steered us through the show-home labyrinth, consistently looking over both shoulders. He’d donned a black Stüssy hoodie and a 5 Panel Supreme cap — all the latest in fuckboy apparel.
“The thing is, uh, when I’m picking up behind the Regent Mall or in the FHS parking lot, I know my coin is going to badass stuff. I don’t feel like a tourist in the ghetto, I goddam am it,” continued Dow. “Cannabis NB or whatever won’t have the same elements of street and danger.”
He then directed us down a narrow path near the end of the subdivision into the woods. Surveying the slight area just off the path, he continued his routine and pulled out a beat-up two-litre Sprite bottle with a plastic straw sticking out of the side, a thick layer of grime coating the inside from frequent use.
Noticing the stares the “budget bong” was receiving, Dow clarified, “No point in cleaning it — thing keeps getting dirty.”
Eventually, he packed a bowl, and after multiple “no thank yous” from our staff, hoisted the pop bottle above his head like an offering and sheepishly yelled, “These tokes are for you X — they took you far too soon! You’re my boy!”
After the touching tribute and ceremonial torch, Dow stated, while sporadically coughing, “I usually just smoke out my, um, window when my parents aren’t home, but my middle-aged neighbour has been annoying me for a hook-up every time I poke my head out.”
“Sometimes, when I’m really desperate, I’ll just hotbox the porta-potty in the neighbourhood playground,” he told us.
As he finished up and began to gather his things, Dow then pointed into the thick woods and explained, “We’re right on the edge of a retired RCMP’s backyard, so we’re really playing with fire.”
Once the pop bottle was put away and we headed back toward the pristinely cut lawns, we sought Dow’s opinion on the controversial science regarding the effect pot may have on young people’s mental health.
“Ah, whatever,” he said. “I don’t read much anyways.”
When we reached the bottom of his driveway, Dow dashed around the perimeter of his home, peeking through all of the windows, looking for signs of life.
“My parents aren’t home yet, so there’s, uh, no need to stash my loot in the garbage,” said Dow. “I’m serious man, no joke, my mom will literally kill me if she finds out. Then nobody will take me seriously.”