weed into the cigarettes, even if it was impos- sible… Hard not to rip the papers to shreds. Is this what it was like loading a musket during the revolution? Preparing for war? On top of every- thing else, equilibrium was eeting; the terrible dryness of the place set in, oh, these crackling lips and burning throat. Did we have enough water to make it to our next destination? Pain- killers and muscle relaxers in the coin pocket? Could we actually maintain? Night had o cially fallen. Even aer a warm aernoon, the crowds on the strip were dispersing below. How could it be this slow aer anksgiving, despite three conventions packing the streets by day? Following that soul- crushing event at the Omnia – standing room only – no one else had been in sight outside at midnight. We’d been the only ones in front of Caesar’s by the re ecting ponds, where we smoked joints and tried not to fall in. Walking around the circus tent and growing green tree had been that much more eerie, all abandoned. Not one person. Warm beer in hand, I was transxed by the Bellagio fountain now, we all were. But the intersection below – in the absence of ballistic water – was nothing but a late night crime scene, a whole expanse of static ashing, paired with a constant honking chorus … ugly racket. Down Flamingo Road, a cacophony of tower- ing marquees and ancient incandescent bulbs ickered, red and yellow, with the carcass of the Palms, lurking. e megalomania was glorious. But emblematic of the emptiness… the hol- lowness of the situation. Starving population, juxtaposed against a skyline of enormous TV screens, a car vending machine, automated monorails, self-driving cars… “Hot damn,” I whispered. “If you imagined yourself 5,000 years ago, coming forward in time to this shit – it feels like you’re on an alien planet. Even for some of humanity currently , to be thrown into this without any context would be so unnatural... But it’s weird because, in our minds, this is great, this is paradise, I’m building what mankind wants . And yet to put mankind into this from ‘nothing’ is so unnatu- ral… e opposite of heaven.” “It took laziness and fascination and they coupled it into a fantasy world.” Ford said. “All of those old ladies’ pensions have built these palaces... e literal palace that you see directly in front of you. Built on the backs of your grandmothers.” Proof that the marketing worked. is is “Paradise.”
Vegas’ never-ending, billion-dollar boon- doggle may be our best national reminder – especially given the sprawling homeless encampments – that humans are recklessly programmed to build, build, build… to the greatest, obscene lengths of excess. Even when it’s the last thing anybody needs. at same dysfunction runs through everything our psy- chotic species touches… and it’s bittersweet to see it happen to cannabis. No hippie, no jailed pot dealer ever dreamed of this future. But here we are. And if Bizcon was the gross spectacle of all the money, tech and gluttony, then the Emjays were the cherry on top, a gala of “winners” suckling at their own tits. It wasn’t always like this, and it’s startling to see the last of the bubble burst in real time. A few years back the sudden-post-pandemic moment struck like the zeitgeist of a thousand winds. Another goldrush … an entire nation, medicating itself to cope with the horrors … and everyone wanted in. Belushi was here to do his song and dance, and other icons all with their new “premier” product lines. Even Dowd – “ e Dude” – had come to muster investment in a brand launch. At that point it was the MSO’s taking over, big Ag, big Data, all strutting their big Money. e expo covered both oors of Central Hall. Dutchie had a ‘hotel’ you could check into, complete with slippers. Every music star, hipster and in uencer had their own company. Cannabis seemed like the only safe bet… But what happens when you’ve been blu ng so long, you forget it's a blu? It all comes vio- lently crashing down. Aer walking around NuWu and Planet 13, the allure of the black market – or at the very least, cheap hemp gummies from the gas sta- tion – seems pretty obvious. is is a paycheck to paycheck economy. e in uencer “lifestyle” is theater. AI is hijacking a whole generation of jobs. ose of us who managed dispensaries during the Great Recession likewise remember the best seller was a bag of shake at ve bucks a pop. Sure, these destinations exist for a reason. Gold-encrusted blunt wraps and brand-name weed are must-haves for a weekend Vegas bender. You want the best of Stiizy… disposable liquid diamonds…a full spectrum of live high terpene extracts. But there was a part of you that recognized all the fanfare, the veranda, the lounges, onsite brewery, manicured lawn… they all went into the bud price. And while it
109
HIGHTIMES LOCAL ▶
Made with FlippingBook Learn more on our blog