Pubdate: Sun, 09 Feb 2014
Source: Washington Post (DC)
Copyright: 2014 The Washington Post Company
Contact: http://mapinc.org/url/mUgeOPdZ
Website: http://www.washingtonpost.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/491
Author: Andrea Sachs

WAITING TO... INHALE

Colorado's Green Rush Is On, and Pot Tourism Is Growing Like Weeds

A long black van with no telling markings slips through the 
snow-encrusted streets of Denver. If you could peek through the 
tinted windows, you'd see Timothy Vee standing at the front of the 
vehicle, addressing a group lounging on an S-curve of cushioned 
seats. And if you could press your ear against the closed door, you'd 
hear the Colorado Highlife Tours owner informing his fellow pot 
smokers, "It's time to get stoned now!"

At the start of the tour, the reaction might have been strong enough 
to shatter the candy-colored glass pipes being passed around. But 
after several hours of inhaling and ingesting Colorado's new legal 
high, the most anyone can muster is a tepid "yeah." Stoners aren't 
known for raucous outbursts and fist-pumping cheers.

And yet cannabis supporters emitted a loud whoopee on New Year's Day, 
when Amendment 64, which legalizes non-medical use, allowed marijuana 
dispensaries to officially open for recreational business. Small 
armies of dudes and dudettes crossed state lines. Residents and 
out-of-towners of legal age (21 and older) besieged retailers. The 
victory cry: Light up for liberty!

"We're from Kansas," remarked a woman who had driven over the border 
with her husband to visit a dispensary in Pueblo, Colo. "We don't 
have any of these."

News bulletin, Dorothy: At the moment, no one else in the country has 
these (well, yet; Washington state is up next, with sales expected to 
start in June). Hence the surge in interest nationwide, from the 
highest peaks to the lowest valleys.

For Colorado citizens, partaking in the pot culture is easy: They can 
buy up to an ounce per visit and smoke it in the privacy of their own 
homes. Visitors, however, must hop over several hurdles, including a 
limit on quantity (a quarter-ounce) and restrictions on consumption 
as dictated by federal and state laws. At the top of the "no smoking 
allowed" list: federal land, including national parks, forests, 
trails, historic sites and ski mountains; establishments covered by 
the Clean Indoor Air Act, such as bars, hotels, restaurants and 
entertainment venues; and outdoor public spaces. Dispensaries also 
post very clear signs about what not to do on their premises.

And you can't take any leftovers home. "You need to come educated 
about local laws," said Tony Verzura, co-founder of RiverRock 
dispensary in Denver, "and prepared."

Coming to the rescue, with guiding lighters in hand, are tour 
operators and entrepreneurs. The experts, many longtime smokers 
themselves, are providing chaperoned excursions to dispensaries and 
growers, much-needed guidance ("Take a puff or two and wait 15 to 20 
minutes," Vee recommended) and, most crucial, a safe place where 
guests can cannibust out without retribution.

"Colorado will be a tourist stop for everyone in the United States," 
said Mike Stetler, the owner of Marisol Therapeutics in Pueblo, 
"until it comes to their state."

Dream that little creampuff dream, pot patriots. But until then, 
Colorado has a lock on the green rush, and so I headed west to claim 
my quarter-ounce of quarry. Dispensing in Pueblo Yes, my mother 
knows. When we discussed my upcoming trip, she informed me that I'm 
an adult and that she trusts my judgment. Of course, she doesn't know 
(until now, unless she walked away from this paragraph) that the last 
time I smoked pot in my very humble history of experimentation was 
after college. I was living in Colorado, and a friend invited me 
inside his room-size closet in Boulder, where we puffed like baby 
dragons among the non-judgmental gaze of his pants, shirts and coats.

Back then, it was wrong, but today, consuming pot is as lawful as 
gambling at Black Rock casino and drinking Coors Light at a Denver 
pub. But it still feels weird.

My initial idea was to revisit my freewheeling days and go 
counter-browsing in Breckenridge, where I slackered as a liberal-arts 
grad with a season's ski pass and a breakfast waitress shift at the Gold Pan.

But on the morning of my outing, the great snowmaker in the sky 
wagged his shaggy head, releasing nearly three feet of white flakes 
onto the little people below. After Denver, which I was saving for 
Vee's Saturday tour, Colorado Springs boasts the largest number of 
medical dispensaries in the state. However, Amendment 64 allows each 
city and municipality to design its own weed landscape. For now, such 
communities as Colorado Springs, Vail and Durango have resisted the 
recreational pull, issuing a moratorium on non-medical sales. Pueblo, 
a former steel town 112 miles south of Denver, jumped right into the garden.

"They're trying to make Pueblo into the Little Amsterdam of 
Colorado," Stetler said of local officials.

Stetler's dispensary, one of two recreational sites in Pueblo, opened 
with a celebrity flourish - a visit by Tommy Chong, the Jester of 
Stoners. A month later, the large banner announcing the comedian's 
appearance still hangs on the back wall.

I arrived in the early afternoon and opened the opaque door to find a 
bulldog-shaped bouncer seated on a stool. He checked my ID, then 
kindly informed me that the store was selling only edibles at the 
moment. But, he added, the staff was expecting purple hash within an 
hour, with a supply of bud, the smokeable green stuff, to follow.

To bide my time, I perused the items on display, a Willy 
Wonka-weds-Mary-Jane buffet of cannabis-infused hard candies and 
lollipops, chocolate pretzels and peanut butter pretzel cups. A gift 
shop-style nook displayed glass pipes, dream catchers, beaded jewelry 
and T-shirts, including one of Popeye breaking free from his 
shackles. (Really? Weed, not spinach, was the sailor man's secret 
weapon?) A rope cordoned off the medical section.

"Okay, who wants hash? Just hash," Tracey, a budtender (a bartender 
of weed), asked the growing crowd. Silence. Not even a polite cough. 
Minutes later, though, the dozen visitors wriggled happily when a 
manager showed up with more than a pound of Orange Kush, a hybrid strain.

Tracey tried rousing the crowd again: "When I say, 'Yay!' you say, "Yay!"

A small "yay" rose like a soap bubble from the middle of the line.

I didn't buy any bud that day, or hash. But I did drive to nearby 
Milberger Farms, where I purchased a loaf of bread baked with hot 
green chilies. After a few bites, I experienced tingly lips and teary 
eyes, a capsaicin buzz that predated Amendment 64 by many decades.

Growing like weed

Hold the groans while you read this: Pot tourism is a budding industry.

Sorry, but the puns are unavoidable. Try talking about Colorado's 
newest law without making some dad joke about a RockyMountain high. 
It's nearly impossible.

But all kidding aside, the sector is growing, very slowly, like a 
young plant in a greenhouse.

"We're all kind of making this up as we go along," said David 
Maddalena, editor in chief of the Hemp Connoisseur, a monthly 
magazine. "We have no road map to follow."

The state tourism office, for one, is delighted to tell visitors 
about skiing and snowboarding, beer and bike tours and gator farms. 
But it zips up on the topic of the newest stream of tourism dollars: 
"The Colorado Tourism Office has positioned Colorado as a premier 
four-season destination," reads a public statement, "and the 
organization has no plans to use the legalization of the drug to 
promote the state."

With tight lips on the official front, tourists must rely on Web 
searches and local weed publications (curl up with a copy of 
Cannapages or Hemp Connoisseur) for their travel information. Chatty 
insiders are also eager to spread the word. Vee, for one, told me 
that about a half-dozen companies are offering themed tours, 
including his own public excursions on the first Saturday of the 
month (he also arranges private outings).

A company called My 420 Tours recently started multi-day packages 
that include cannabis friendly hotels, special tasting events and 
airport transfers. Colorado Green Tours, a full-service travel agency 
that has jumped on the bud wagon, quoted me prices for three a la 
carte tours (sampling, growing or dispensary). When I was ready to 
book, I left two phone messages and sent an e-mail. The company never 
replied; feel free to insert stoner quip here.

Though WeedMaps, an online directory, provides the addresses, hours 
and menus of the dispensaries, it goes blank on the next step: where 
to savor your special purchase. Accommodations that permit smoking on 
balconies or designated floors are rare. For weed-welcoming lodging, 
Stetler told me about the Microtel Inn and Suites in Pueblo, and Vee 
shared the name of the Cliff House Lodge in Morrison.

For smoking spots that don't require pajamas, Maddalena recommended 
Casselman's Bar and Venue; private clubs such as Club 64; and 
HoodLab, a hemp clothing retailer that holds art exhibits and 
cultural events. Smokers are welcome to retreat to the latter's back 
yard, which is tented during colder months.

"I think Denver needs to provide a place for tourists to smoke 
comfortably," said Maddalena.

With the law still pink and hairless, the industry is preparing for 
the moment when pot tourism sprouts some fur and legs - and sprints 
off like an unleashed beast. Medically Correct's Incredibles, a line 
of handcrafted chocolate bars sold in 400 dispensaries, plans to move 
its kitchen from a cramped room southwest of downtown to a larger 
space by spring. The expansion may also include tour opportunities 
for small clusters of guests interested in learning about the 
culinary art and science of infused treats.

For the uninitiated, the variety of items on the market can be 
dizzying. The sophisticated industry uses inscrutable terms that 
sound as if the products were concocted in a science lab run by Jeff 
Spicoli: indica, sativa, dabbing, butane hash oil, vaporizers, couch 
lock (when you melt into your furniture). Budtenders often meet with 
customers one-on-one, carefully explaining the different strains and 
their effect on the mind and body.

At RiverRock, Verzura will introduce some visual aids when the shop 
launches its adult-use division on March 1. He plans to assemble a 
color-coded chart that will help visitors pair their desired 
experience (high-energy or low-key, creative flow or deep thoughts, 
functional or slothful) with the proper product.

I challenged Verzura to a match: I hypothetically wanted to re-create 
the sensation of sitting in a flowery field beneath a blue sky and a 
warm sun. I didn't want to sweat or experience an uptick in 
heartbeats. If possible, mandolin music would tinkle in the background.

Verzura processed the information and minutes later produced a trio 
of suggestions: White Widow, Northern Lights and Jack Herer, which 
was named after the cannabis activist who died two years before 
Colorado passed Amendment 64.

Maddalena, who carries a medical red card, purchased a gram of Jack 
Frost, another option that would transport me to my fairy-in-nature 
setting. He later handed me the container as a gift. I added it to my 
growing pile of untouched cannabis.

The state had removed all the hurdles expect the one inside my head.

Rolling on the cannibus

"Do you want me to roll you a joint for the ride?" asked my host, 
Chastity Osborn, who runs Get High Getaways with her husband, Dale Dyke.

Cannibus as a hotel amenity - how novel.

As part of my bed-and-breakfast stay, the couple provided 
personalized car service in a black Mercedes sedan. But the perks 
didn't stop there. Inside their Lakewood home, I had the run of the 
entire first floor, which included a living room with HDTV, the 
kitchen and a pair of guestrooms stocked with salty snack foods, 
candy and a mini-fridge full of beverages, hummus and veggies. A hot 
tub bubbled out back, and a steam room misted downstairs. Chastity is 
also a massage therapist with fingers like a drill press.

"These will be ready for when you get back," she said, pointing to 
the homemade chocolate-chip cookies sealed inside a Tupperware container.

Dale, dressed dapperly in an olive-colored suit, drove me to the 
Colorado Highlife Tours meeting spot near the 16th Street Mall. On 
the ride over, we talked about his indoor grow room, which he 
assembled six years ago, and his new strains (Loud Scout and Grape 
Twizzler). At a red light, he demonstrated the mechanics of a vape-pen.

In the parking lot, he sat with me until I was ready to board the 
bus. I felt like a kid on her first day of school, with Dale in the 
role of protective father. Hemet Vee and confirmed my return time 
before driving off.

Vee started the tour with a social smoke, passing around pipes packed 
with Blue Dream. I declined and waved it over to a middle-age couple 
from New Jersey. They passed it along to a young duo from the Dallas 
area, who paid it forward to a New York transplant carrying a stylish 
Hugo Boss satchel. The pipes eventually circled back to Vee, who 
exclaimed, "Is that bowl dust?"

Thin puffs of smoke floated over our heads like cumulus clouds. Vee 
fiddled with the music, which treaded into easy-listening territory. 
The champagne remained corked. We were subdued, the anti-booze cruise.

"Don't get too zoned," he warned us after our first stop at Medicine 
Man, the state's largest retailer. "We don't want anyone zombie-ing 
out on the couch."

At our second stop, 3-D Cannabis Center, I skipped the retail queue 
and ducked under the Garden Viewing Corridor sign. A row of windows 
framed a series of cannabis plants - the latest trend, from farm-to-bong.

We were behind schedule because of the 45-minute wait to enter the 
retail shop. Vee was now moving at significantly higher rpms. At 
Illuzion, he herded his little lambs through the glassblowing gallery 
that specializes in artful pipes and bongs. I blurred past smoking 
devices shaped like Bert and Ernie, piranhas with razor-sharp teeth 
and yellow "rubber" duckies that require water wings to float. I 
reconnected with Vee in front of a giant schooner. We studied the 
sails, ropes and decks trying to discern how one smokes out of a 
ship. Aha, through the mast.

Our final stop, Club 64, was a new addition to the tour. After 
noticing a significant lull in the energy level of previous guests, 
Vee tacked on a visit to a private venue. Here, we could stretch our 
legs, down some barista-made coffee and light up for the nth time that day.

Walking up the narrow stairs, I asked the New Jersey gentleman how he 
and his wife indulge back home, since that state supports only 
medical marijuana. "We drink a glass of wine," he said, "and we come 
to Colorado."

Little by little, our group peeled off. A married couple excused 
themselves to go check into their hotel; a New York pair skipped the 
return ride and walked back to their inn. The Jersey husband fell ill 
and required an ambulance trip to the hospital. The arrival of EMTs 
can really knock your kite out of the sky.

When we arrived at the original meeting place, Dale was standing 
outside the car, a chauffeur with a not-so-secret stash. While I was 
gone, he'd prepared me a joint, which he'd placed in a glass ashtray 
resting on the nightstand in my room. It nested with a large bud 
(there was also one in my bathroom) and a lighter engraved with the inn's name.

Our trio, plus Sydney the dog, gathered around the kitchen table. 
Chastity poured us each a glass of white wine while Dale rolled a 
smoke. I twirled the animal print vape-pen between my fingers.

The following morning, I woke to the growl of the juicing machine. 
Dale handed me a glass of apple, orange and carrot juice and a sesame 
bagel. Breakfast was a typical B&B scene, except for the bag of pot 
on the table, the joint in my guest room and the dry taste in my mouth.
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom