An SU Student and Colorado Native's Day Dream About Her Used-to-Be 4/20

Around 10 a.m. I wake up to the decadent smelling doobie I rolled the night before in preparation. Eyes still groggy, I spark it. While exhaling the smoke, I take a look on my phone and see the date “April 20.” Today is going to be a great fucking day.

Melissa calls me and fills me in on the plans for the day “ski, smoke, sled, smoke, snack, smoke, sunset."

I get dressed. Then I remember I am stoned out of my mind so each move I make takes much more effort than the average person. After a 40-minute search I finally find my Huff weed leaf socks, my Bob Marley sweatshirt, and my green ski pants. I look at myself in the mirror and think, “damn, I look straight out of a Cheech and Chong movie.”

We all meet at the base of the mountain at 12 p.m. with pre rolls in our pocket. We aboard the gondola (we call it the “ganjala”) for what would be our hotbox for the 20-minute ride.

Skiing on a beautiful blue bird day is great, but skiing high on a beautiful blue bird day is fucking fantastic. We spark doobies in tree trails and race down the mountain, doing about 10 runs before we call it quits.

We packed our sleds in the trunk of the car and head to another favorite mountain while I roll in the back seat. What might feel like 20 mph down a slope of 150 degrees to most people feels like 90 mph down a 90-degree angle to me. I feel an exhilarating gust of air and suddenly am convinced I'm flying. The clouds transform into cherry blossom pink, and we know we don't have much time before the day is over. Still optimistic, we order ahead take out just in time for sunset up the mountain.

As exhaustion dooms upon us, we watch the sunset and eat. Like all good endings to a day full of smoking, I order a cup of chili, a basket of fries, a burger, a personal pizza, and a Coke (diet, of course). The top of the mountain has impeccable views of the horizon. While I look around and absorb the most breathtaking scene, I see my friends (dressed like bums) laughing, smoking, and shooting the shit. I reflect on the day and appreciate my full stomach, the joint I just smoked, the friends I have, and the legendary stoner who made 4/20 national weed day.

Fast forward one year and here I am, at Syracuse University. Dispensaries are nonexistent, good weed is scarce, and less people appreciate this very important national holiday. My stoner’s attire will remain in the back of my drawer and the closest I’ll get to a joint is in the library when I’m studying for my anatomy exam the following day. I might be missing out on the celebration, but like Veteran’s Day, Mother’s day, and Father’s day, something so special should, and will be celebrated.