Pubdate: Sun, 21 Sep 2014
Source: New York Times (NY)
Copyright: 2014 The New York Times Company
Contact: http://www.nytimes.com/ref/membercenter/help/lettertoeditor.html
Website: http://www.nytimes.com/
Details: http://www.mapinc.org/media/298
Author: Maureen Dowd

TWO REDHEADED STRANGERS

Willie Nelson Feels Maureen Dowd's Pain

WASHINGTON - WHEN Willie Nelson invites you to get high with him on 
his bus, you go.

The man is the patron saint of pot, after all, and I'm the poster 
girl for bad pot trips.

It seemed like a match made in hash heaven.

When Nelson sang at the 9:30 club in D.C. one recent night, I 
ventured onto the Honeysuckle Rose, as his tour bus and 
home-away-from-home is called.

I was feeling pretty shy about meeting him. The 81-year-old Redheaded 
Stranger is an icon, one of America's top songwriters and, as Rolling 
Stone said, "a hippie's hippie and a redneck's redneck." The 
Smithsonian wants his guitar, "Trigger."

I needed a marijuana Miyagi, and who better than Nelson, who has a 
second-degree black belt in taekwondo and a first-degree black belt 
in helping Norml push for pot legalization?

In a Rolling Stone cover piece last month on "America's Most Beloved 
Outlaw," Nelson told writer Patrick Doyle that he had read my column 
on having a bad reaction to a marijuana-infused candy bar while I was 
in Denver covering the pot revolution in Colorado.

"Maybe she'll read the label now!" he said, laughing, adding that I 
was welcome to get high on his bus "anytime."

So that's how I found myself, before Nelson's show here, sitting 
opposite him in a booth on the bus as he drank black coffee out of a 
pottery cup, beneath a bulletin board filled with family photos.

His eyes were brass-colored, to use Loretta Lynn's description. His 
long pigtails were graying. His green T-shirt bore the logo of his 
son's band, Promise of the Real.

So, Sensei, if I ever decide to give legal pot a whirl again, what do 
I need to know?

"The same thing that happened to you happened to me one or two times 
when I was not aware of how much strength was in whatever I was 
eating," Nelson said, in his honeyed voice. "One time, I ate a bunch 
of cookies that, I knew they were laced but I didn't worry about it. 
I just wanted to see what it would do, and I overdid it, naturally, 
and I was laying there, and it felt like the flesh was falling off my bones.

"Honestly, I don't do edibles," he continued. "I'd rather do it the 
old-fashioned way, because I don't enjoy the high that the body gets. 
Although I realize there's a lot of other people who have to have it 
that way, like the children that they're bringing to Colorado right 
now for medical treatments. Those kids can't smoke. So for those 
people, God bless 'em, we're for it."

Eager not to seem like a complete idiot, I burbled that, despite the 
assumption of many that I gobbled the whole candy bar, I had only 
taken a small bite off the end, and then when nothing seemed to be 
happening, another nibble.

Nelson humored me as I also pointed out that the labels last winter 
did not feature the information that would have saved me from my 
night of dread.

Now, however, Colorado and Washington State have passed emergency 
rules to get better labeling and portion control on edibles, whose 
highs kick in more slowly and can be more intense than when the drug 
is smoked. Activists are also pushing to make sure there are stamps 
or shapes to distinguish pot snacks - which had, heretofore, been 
designed to mimic regular snacks - so that children don't mistakenly 
ingest them.

Trying to prevent any more deaths, emergency-room trips or runaway 
paranoia, the Marijuana Policy Project has started an educational 
campaign called "Consume Responsibly."

Its whimsical first billboard in Denver shows a bandjaxed redhead in 
a hotel room - which is far too neat to be mine - with the warning: 
"Don't let a candy bar ruin your vacation. With edibles, start low 
and go slow."

Bill Maher also offered Colorado, "the Jackie Robinson of marijuana 
legislation," some tips, including having budtenders talk to 
customers "like a pharmacist would," curtail pot products that look 
like children's candy, and don't sell novices kief, superconcentrated 
crystals so potent that they're "harvested directly from Willie 
Nelson's beard."

I asked Nelson about Jerry Brown's contention that a nation of 
potheads would threaten American superiority.

"I never listened to him that much," he said, sweetly.

He showed me his pot vaporizer, noting: "Everybody's got to kill 
their own snakes, as they say. I found out that pot is the best thing 
for me because I needed something to slow me down a little bit." He 
was such a mean drunk, he said, that if he'd kept drinking heavily, 
"there's no telling how many people I would have killed by now."

I asked him about the time he was staying in the Carter White House - 
on bond from a pot bust - and took a joint up to the roof.

"It happened a long time ago," he said, adding slyly, "I'm sure it happened."

Did he also indulge in the Lincoln Bedroom?

"In what?" he replied, mischievously. "I wouldn't do anything Lincoln 
wouldn't have done."

Given all the horrors in the world now, I said, maybe President Obama 
needs to chill out by reuniting the Choom Gang.

"I would think," Nelson said, laughing, "he would sneak off somewhere."
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MAP posted-by: Jay Bergstrom