If you’re like me in the procurement of your favorite recreational drug,
you have one source that you call over and over again to order your stash
for the month.

But what about he odd time out? Your source has taken an unexpected
Trip to Las Vegas from which he has not yet mysteriously returned. Long
overdue, you’re down to scraping the inside of the pipe and sucking puffs
of resin which usually give you just enough of the hint of a buzz to piss
you off.

Or – whoosh – your rich lawyer wife gets offered an even more lucrative
position with a huge oil company and you get transferred to new territory
of which whose hoochie traditions unfamiliar one is, so much so that you’re
so deprived of your favorite high that you’re starting to talk like Yoda.

Or – damn! – you suddenly look too old and square to be approached by the
dime bag dealers in the park and that was your usual fallback. I’m sure that
one day even I will be able to relate to this unintoxicable situation.

Well, fellow cannabis sativaites, there are creative ways to acquire your
chronic. Allow me to give an actual example, live from the personal casebook
of StoneMaster…

The Objective: score some weed
The Problem: you don’t know anyone local

First, consider the nature of your territory. Where do the potheads gather?
Is the place open and logical (headshops) or covert and undercover (the
music store)? Figure that out first.

I did when stuck in Los Angeles without a stem or a seed on a grim day back
In 2002. Los Angeles is big enough and diverse enough to have many head-
gathering oasis’, but one in particular stands out: Venice Beach.

Walking into the two-way parade of tourists, entertainers, promoters,
merchants, muscle builders, artists, vendors, drum circlers, beach bums,
students, film shoots, shake-downs and rap-jugglers expectantly, I came
upon a display of bongs for sale. A large table in the middle of everything
with a magnificent display of water-assisted smoking tools.

Innocently enough, I eyeballed the merchandise admiringly and looked ready to
buy, catching the attention of the long-haired young gentleman manning the
cash register.

“That’s a nice one,” I said.

“Yeah, that it is. I can let you have it for 10% off.”

“Man, I’d buy it in a second if I had something to put in it.”

“Can’t help ya there,” he said without missing a beat. But he did smile
ever-so-slightly. “You might wanna walk down that way…” he nodded,
indicating north.

“Cool. See ya later.”

I didn’t dare ask more. Hell, I was a total stranger! But the guy gave me a
clue and it was up to me not to be an idiot at that point. So I casually walked
away in the direction he sent me.

I glanced subtly about as I proceeded. Nothing obvious like “Thai Sticks &
Churros” going on. Didn’t smell anything suspicious. Lots of people coming
and going and…

“Pssst. I hear you’re looking for something.” A male voice, slightly accented.

Where did that come from? Ah – leaning casually against the wall was a
muscular black man with very long black and silver-streaked hair, looking down
at his feet. I slowed down.

“Yeah, I am,” I replied, trying to stay cool.

“Okay, walk behind me about 20 feet. Just follow me, 20 feet behind.” He never
looked up, he just strolled off down the Strand, slowly, easily, naturally. I
followed instructions. He took me away from the busy thoroughfare on to a
side street and between two houses.

“Are you a cop?” he asked.

“No. Are you?”

“Hell no. Whatcha lookin’ for, mon?”

I told him. He quoted a price $20 over the norm. I gave him the cash. He told me
that he’d be back in five minutes.

He was. And the shit was good.

So good, that on another trip to L.A. I went to Venice just to see if I could find him.
Sure enough, right there in the drum circle, sat my man, thumpin’ his elevated heart
out. Once I caught his eye, he remembered me and we took care of business.

In fact, he gave me his cell number and I used it twice.

NEXT: Finding some super stash that had long been abandoned and forgotten as
premature, weak failed crop.