Today is 4/20, that magical day–nay, that magical holiday stoners hold in higher esteem than their second favorite holiday–Halloween. All around me glassy-eyed, greasy-haired white hipsters and techies are donning their dirtiest flannels and comfiest crocs and flocking to Hippie Hill in San Francisco to burn one down in gaggles of other questionably aged stoners, all in the name of Jane.
And you know what? More power to them.
Because there used to be a time when my ass would have been right there beside them, happily blazing on mediocre Mexi-Cali brick weed while listening to Sublime in a chilly section of Grant Park in Chicago, all the while keeping a half-lidded eye out for the very real threat of cops taking both me and my shitty weed to jail. Those were the days, believe it or not because I was definitely walking on air due to a steady diet of dried out Northern Lights.
And then one month, around my 32 birthday, 420 came and went without much fanfare from either me or my friends. I quickly realized I simply didn’t care about the holiday anymore. Maybe it’s because every day is 420 for me, so to choose one singular day when I get, I don’t know, extra high, is laughable. I’m also old as hell now too, with too many responsibilities and too little time. If you’re not quite sure what I’m talking about, let me explain a bit more:
420 sucks when you’re over 30 because you have a lot more responsibilities
Work, grad-school, children, marriage, divorce, baby mama’s, baby daddies, hoes and bros–I could go on but you get the picture. When you’re over 30 your life is filled with a lot more bullshit like this. For example, as I’m writing this I could be in some park in the Bay Area getting high as the stratosphere, but no, instead I’m at work supposed to be working. I suppose there is irony in there somewhere but I’m too sober to notice.
And after work? Forget it, I have to pick my son up, and he’s too young to understand why daddy would leave a plate of edibles and a bong out for Snoop Dogg this evening.
420 sucks when you’re over 30 because you typically have a stricter smoking regiment
I can’t rise in the morning, wake and bake, get super high and go to my job as a Social Worker and assist people. Well maybe I could but the assistance would be hilarious and the work getting done would be minimal, at best. What I’m trying to say is 420 is that one day when you blaze mightily all day long, and that simply is not possible when you’re over 30. Or at least it shouldn’t be. Trust me, I wish I could have gotten high this morning and kept that train chugging along. But that would have eventually led me to my next point.
420 sucks when you’re over 30 because you don’t have the endurance you used to
I remember in my early 20’s I used to sell slag weed for this ex-con recently released from San Quentin. I would smoke about ten spliffs a day and would have likely smoked more if he didn’t snatch me up and threaten my life one evening while I was walking down the street (different article for a different topic). If I tried smoking that much weed today I would get through three spliffs before my throat completely collapsed upon itself and I fell into a Kush coma so deep and so pure it would make Rip Van Winkle look like he dozed off. Even though I have a tolerance made out of Kyrptonite, it still only takes a little bit of weed to make me feel alright.
420 sucks when you’re over 30 because every damn day is 420
Even though I don’t celebrate 420 anymore, I celebrate cannabis on a daily basis. I’ve also been smoking almost 20 years so what’s a day here and there, right? Now if you find you’re over 30 and you can still celebrate 420 with the best of them, hey, give yourself a hearty pat on the back. You are a true pothead. And that, my friend, deserves to be celebrated.