The Devil’s Candy
On edibles, and a very bad trip
The lowest point of my first experience with edibles was probably when I tied myself to the bed with a sheet because I worried I might fall off the bed and then off the edge of the world. I don’t have a lot of experience with drugs. I was raised to be a good girl and old habits die hard. I went to boarding school and then a fancy college so I always had access to good drugs but I was terrified that the first time I tried drugs I would die and then my parents would find out I had done drugs and my ghost would live with that shame for all eternity.
And then, a few years ago, I moved to California where things are a lot more mellow. One night, I had dinner with a friend and her friend who owned several dispensaries. This friend of a friend gave me an edible and I knew that several months later, marijuana would be legal in California so, law-abiding citizen (nerd) that I am, I decided to wait because I did not want to break the law. I recognize how lame this sounds. The following January, marijuana was legal. Dispensaries that looked like slick Apple stores — all bright light and wide spaces, concrete floors and lots of natural wood — opened and the staff in these beautiful places would ask you what kind of high you were looking for. They would walk you, carefully, through the different kinds of weed and CBD products available. They would…
