Hot box hero




It’s amusing how accurate cliches describe situations. “Just when you thought it was safe.” Just when I thought it was safe to be a proud weed smoker in Anchorage, Alaska; just when I thought it was safe to relax and enjoy the ambiance, I find myself out of position and in a pickle. You must understand that I love Alaska and I love smoking weed while I adore its scenery. The beauty of the mountains and trees supply a better-than-TV visual while driving and smoking some of the finest marijuana North America has to offer. Every day I attempt to achieve meditation by combining the elements of weed, music, and Alaska, and this late afternoon was no different. Me and my buddy 13 matched on a couple grams of top shelf pot from Frost Farms on the south side of Anchorage. They have a great selection of flavors, which I feel is Alaska’s top attribute when it comes to harvesting weed. In Alaska you won’t find the THC levels that you might find in California, Colorado, or Washington, but you will find an extravagant array of flavors that range from Grapefruit Juice to Blackberry.

Anyways, we grabbed some Chem-Cookies, some Savage Grape, a couple King Palm leaf wraps and we were off to smoke blunts parked somewhere dope with a good view. I felt great about the experience at the dispensary. Frost Farms has found a way of cultivating a culture of artists, musicians, writers, and other cool people from our city that enjoy smoking and living the Alaskan lifestyle.

So, me and 13 drive up to this spot above the water park H20 Oasis on O’Malley Road at the bottom of the hill on the south side. I was excited to smoke this exquisite weed. The “Chem-Cooks” smelled stupid dummy and came in around 25% on the THC levels. The “Savage Grape” was a traditional purple strain that had a smell that would remind one of fine wine, no joke. We rolled up two fat blunts and commenced to fire up. I put on beats by The Alchemist and we started to freestyle. It was a classic Saturday night in Anchorage when there really ain’t shit to do, but get roasted in the whip and session out. I’ve been doing this for years.

After we let all the smoke pour out of his Jimmy, 13 proceeded to take me back to my Blazer. When we pulled up there were two cars blocking me in on both sides and three guys standing outside waiting for us. I was like, “Holy shit, this is all bad.” I’m thinking I’m about to get a weed OUI and all this stupid shit could go down. 13 tells me we got to tell them the truth. We pulled up, rolled down the windows and these guys instantly started to take pictures of us with their camera phones. We began to explain ourselves. “Sorry sir, we we’re just smoking looking out at the view.” The older man who seemed to be the leader of the posse responded, “You’re trespassing! The cops are on their way.” I was trippin’, and I damn sure knew 13 was trippin’ too. I went into citizen mode quick, “Sir, we’re sorry.” I got out the car and told them the car they were blocking in was mine. 13 was looking paranoid as a motherfucker so I told him to leave and that I would handle the situation.

I’m staring at these three older white men who have me surrounded and my car blocked in. It was something out of a redneck horror movie. I kept explaining myself and they weren’t listening. We’re waiting for the police they kept saying. They were making me feel uncomfortable so I safely stepped around them and separated myself from being vulnerable. Then I started to explain how ridiculous this was to the landowner. “I’m a citizen, I have a job, and I go to school. I’m in gym shorts and sandals for Christ sake!” They kept telling me that there were people wandering around in the woods above with headlamps. I understood that they probably thought they were dealing with thieves but I thought it was a little excessive to block another person’s car in and hold them hostage over nothing but a lack of security. They still weren’t listening. I was freaking out in the inside of my head. I could lose my car, my job, everything. I must to finish school. I can’t keep dodging these bullets of Anchorage insanity.

I turned to the old man, “You know it’s going to take the police forever to get here, and when they do what do you got besides you guys keeping me from leaving and my car isn’t even on the right side of your property line. I’m just trying not to get the OUI, I’ll just walk away from the car and they can tow it or whatever, when they get here in 3 hours.” The old man looked at his associates, who looked like they we’re finally breaking down. Mind you I was hella blowed. I had just faced two king palms full of Chem-dog Cookies and purple weed. My heart was racing, this had completely killed my high.

The old man turned to me finally and said, “If you promise me you’ll never come back here, we’ll let you go.” I said, “That’s off top. I’m for sure never coming back. Then the old man tried to flex on me, “You know whose land this is?” I said, “I’m guessing yours.” He said, “Yeah, and I don’t care if you’re smoking dope or whatever you’re doing out there, this is my property. So move that cone back to where it was and we’ll let you go.” I said, “For real?” I knew the guy wasn’t playing and I was trying to get the fuck out of there so I moved the cone. While moving the cone I started to mouth off again. “You know you’re real lucky you’re dealing with a normal guy like me and not one of these crazy people like who you thought was stealing. This is super provoking and something bad could have happened with a different person.” I paused for a second and walked back to the men. “I guess if I were in your position I would do the same thing?” I said this questioningly as the older man’s son got into the truck behind me. These guys even made me take my registration out of my car and took a picture of it with my ID. I was sitting in my car waiting for the guy to move his Suburban when I overheard the older man talking to his other crony. The younger man said, “He said we’re lucky, he’s lucky he didn’t get hit with this...” I didn’t hear exactly what he said but it sounded like he was talking about a 240 watt lamp or something to the extent of a bright flash of a lamp, but it could have been a gun — who knows? All I know is I could have been the dead trespasser in self-defense if I wasn’t careful, or even blinded permanently from a simple misunderstanding. Thank god for my ability to communicate calmly.

I drove back to the east side like a bat out of hell! My tank was on E, too, plus I was worried the cops could be lurking about — my car always smells like weed. These guys basically thought they would do a citizen arrest on a thief they caught red handed, but really just ruined my night and gave me an interesting story. Imagine if it was some kid with his girlfriend or if it really was some drug addicts stealing tools and they had guns ready for action, or if it was just another G like me smoking but was actually strapped and was like, “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re going to let me leave!” Either way just when you thought it was safe, well... you know.

Allen Ginnett studies Professional & Creative Writing at Alaska Pacific University.

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