I had no idea how the bag of Fritos Scoops ended up in our pantry.
It is likely the last vestige of Thanksgiving, a procrastinator’s contribution to our spread that never made it to the table. It had been hidden from me, of that much I was sure. I hatched a plan to purchase a replacement bag, then Indiana-Jones it back before my girlfriend returned from New York.
This is an afternoon with Granddaddy Purple.
I avoid indica strains during the daytime like sane people avoid Black Friday lines. Granddaddy Purple (or GDP, as it’s known) is a particularly devastating genetic cross of Big Bud and Purple Urkle, two well-known expressions of cannabis indica. They’re generally what patients in Colorado use to treat severe pain and insomnia, neither of which I suffered from at 2 p.m. on a Wednesday.
Granddaddy Purple by the numbers: $13/gram, $280/ounce at Lightshade Labs, 3950 North Holly St. in Denver
“Purple” herb has a unique place in marijuana culture that it probably hasn’t earned, as it doesn’t make the final product intrinsically better. Purps are the spinning rims of the weed world. This particular Granddaddy Purps was Clooneyesque, with violet sugar leaves peppered in the dense, light green nuggets. Laborious to break up with the texture of a stale mini-marshmallow, I went to my tool box and tossed a gram into my grinder. Cracking the lid, it hits me.
Forgive me for sounding like a stoner cliche, but this strain smells purple. It’s an amalgam of every grape candy in the aisle, a cloyingly sweet aroma that reminds me of popping open a bag of Big League Chew, complete with crystals clinging to the sides. This is where the hunger pangs began.
I’m not a huge fan of vaporizing, as I find that not only is the high duller but it dissipates faster, too. Fortunately, that’s exactly what I was after — this is work, people. The fact that the flavor was more pronounced with the vapor was just a bonus, with a mix of fresh grapes and a nuttiness that made me wish I had a cheese plate. Instead, I had a bag of Scoops.
Initially, the Granddaddy gave me a nice uptick of energy that had me pondering a walk with our Sheltie on the relatively balmy 34 degree afternoon. It was a lofty goal. I could string together the concepts — like socks before shoes — but by the time I made it to the shoes, where had the socks gone? This continued for longer than I’d care to admit.
There’s a stoner idiom that applies here: You can always take more, but you can never take less. I told you — it’s a stoner idiom. After three hits from my vape pen, I was firmly on the “can’t take less” end of the spectrum. A supposedly seasoned pro ripped out of his gourd.
To be clear, this “couch-lock” is my least favorite high, and one many tourists will experience come January 1. Colorado grows ridiculously strong pot, and some people prefer the herbal version of a wine cooler over smokable Everclear. This Granddaddy Purple qualifies as the latter, which is great for the manufacturers of snack chips and the good folks over at Netflix.
For me? Not so much.