sleepr
New Member
What would be better than buying in the pot capital of America, right? Wrong! I rode my hog up the PCH to Arcata to experience it myself. I stayed there for three days. The first thing I noticed was the lack of anyone hanging around the center square. I was told that the week before, the local police had made a drug sweep through the town and had arrested a lot of people. I talked to several local vendors and told them I was from Mass. and wanted to purchase some good buds and every one of them acted like I was undercover DEA! One local guy, doing some sketching out of the back of his van and a fellow vet introduced me to a local and told her I was looking to score. She invited to her house where we all smoked up on the porch with three of her friends. The pot we hit was OK but nothing to write home about. I think she invited me to get high with her because she thought I was a cop. While they promised to hook me up, at the end of day three, they didn't call, so I left for Santa Cruz. After hanging out on Pacific Avenue and having a very strange conversation with a homeless young lady who was strung way out. I finally was able to buy an eighth from an elderly mexican with whom I had a great conversation. Finally, a couple days later, the entire homeless community had gathered for a free style 60's group peace gathering, including freestyle dancing, chanting and bongo playing. You could smell the weed four blocks away! Hallelujah! I was amazed that the local pd were driving by, several times and seemed to ignore the obvious pot presence. If I couldn't score some primo tree here I couldn't score anywhere. After watching the group for a half hour and asking several people if they were selling, a young lady sat down next to me selling a variety of glass bowls. I talked with her and told her a glass bowl probably wouldn't travel well on my Harley when she pulled out a quarter ounce of some respectable buds. Several people approached her and were buying eighths at 20.00 a pop. I told her how much for the whole bag. She looked surprised but weighed it out and I walked away a happy man. As I got backed to my bike, I noticed a VERY strong odor coming from the car next to me and a polite Jamaican sitting in it. I asked if he were selling (silly question as the smell was enough to knock you over) I was able to score some very potent Jamaican Ganja. Now all I had to do was to ride three thousand miles back to Mass. Wish I had bought more!
