The sky was painted in shades of lavender as the first rays of sunlight peeked over the horizon, casting a gentle glow upon the city. The streets were still and silent, except for the distant hum of early morning traffic. The air was crisp and carried a hint of dew, giving a refreshing start to the day. But something else was brewing, something else was about to happen.
Tucked away and hidden underground, shrouded in darkness… A cavernous space is filled with state-of-the-art computer systems and gadgets scattered throughout. A series of illuminated glass displays showcase an impressive collection of weed smoking equipment and rare artifacts.
A massive Dabbin-Dad symbol, sleek and imposing, is engraved into the stone wall, serving as a reminder of the purpose. The atmosphere is tinged with an intense aura, as if anticipation and determination hang in the air. This is the hidden lair of JohnsJoints. And at the center of the lair is the Dab-Phone.
The silence was abruptly shattered as the Dab-Phone emits a vibrant and pulsating glow. I rushed to answer the call.
It was The Wildebeest, he had an assignment and I was ready to go. We were heading to the 1st ever Connecticut NECANN, we had press passes. We were also running the Dab Bar for The Anti Anslinger after-party. In the blink of an eye, I was off like a shot.
We had a colossal space freighter to load. After all, we had an entire Dab Bar set up including shelter and lounge. The vessel was a marvel of engineering and ingenuity with its sheer magnitude and power. Its hull, stretching forever, was a gleaming testament to human achievement, constructed with advanced alloys and reinforced with energy shields to withstand interstellar travel or possible attack. The network of cargo bays were able to accommodate the awe-inspiring array of goods of Dabbin-Dad. Guided by a state-of-the-art navigation technology, the mammoth vessel launched to deliver the vital resources to The Anti-Anslinger after-party.
We touched down in Hartford, in the heart of the city the raindrops danced in symphonies with the rhythm of life. The streets were being washed anew by a gentle cascade, glistening under the misty glow of streetlights. The XL Center. Garnished with shimmering glass that mirrored the overcast skies. The scent of wet asphalt lingers in the air, blending with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee from cozy cafes. We had arrived. Armed with a press pass, I jumped right in.
Under the colosseum roof housed a diverse array of cannabis-related businesses and services. This bustling environment features a layout reminiscent of city streets, with vendors offering various marijuana products and services. Inside, we found dispensaries promoting their services, glass blowers showcasing their artistry, financial institutions catering to the industry, and advocates promoting cannabis awareness and education. And it was a little different from the expos of Christmas past. The air was thick with anticipation as I stepped into the vibrant chaos of the NECANN Expo, the hallowed ground where the cannabis industry’s pioneers and rebels converged. It was a wild, pulsating ecosystem of creativity and commerce, where the fragrance of freshly cultivated buds mingled with the heady scent of ambition.
My senses were suddenly assaulted as I entered the lighting. Blindingly bright LEDs and shimmering HPS bulbs bathed the room with glow, their luminosity rivaling the sun itself. It was a haven for growers seeking to harness the power of light to cultivate the most potent buds imaginable. Manufacturers peddled cutting-edge lighting technologies promising increased yields and juicier terpene profiles. It was a relentless battle for the best lighting, and the air crackled with the electricity of ambition.
Navigating deeper into the heart of the expo, I stumbled upon the genetics. This was the breeding ground of cannabis evolution, where strains with names that danced on the edge of legality mingled and intertwined. Geneticists spoke in proud tones, inspired to create the holy grail of cannabis: the perfect strain. They wielded their DNA like sorcerers, cross-breeding the building blocks of life to craft plants with unrivaled potency, mind-bending flavors, and exotic cannabinoid profiles. It was a genetic arms race, and each breeder was an alchemist striving to unlock all of the secrets of weed.
Then The Wildebeest spotted the labyrinth of greenhouses, grow tents, and dirt-filled corners, each offering its own secret garden. It was as if a psychedelic trip had merged with a horticultural convention, and the result was a mind-bending journey into the heart of plant cultivation. Further down the rabbit hole we go.
In one corner, a team of eclectically dressed experts gathered around a vibrant hydroponic system, their eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. With a twinkle in his eye, the lead guru proclaimed, “We’re growing without soil, man! Nature, meet technology!”
A few steps away, I stumbled upon a row of futuristic grow tents. The air inside was thick with humidity, as if the plants were having a wild, tropical party. The manufacturers boasted about their cutting-edge technology that could recreate any climate within these fabric cocoons. They claimed you could grow any exotic orchard, with just the flick of a switch.
The dirt sections were battlefields of fertilizers.
In the midst of the chaos, we stumbled upon our old friends at Kushley. They stood amidst a crowd, their booth adorned with the promise of scentless sanctuaries. It was a relief to see familiar faces in this botanical carnival.
With a warm smile and open arms, the Kushley team greeted us like long-lost comrades. Their enthusiasm was infectious as they unveiled their arsenal of odor-eliminating products. From sprays to diffusers, their lineup promised to banish unwanted aromas with a wave of a fragrant wand. Love you guys. 😘
It was getting late and we had to split. Soon everyone would be coming to the after party and we still had to get ready.
As the heavens unleashed their fury, The Wildebeest and I converged upon the wet parking lot, our mission: to defy the tempest and erect a haven of spite amidst the chaos. With a pop-up tent, lounge chairs, and an arsenal of cannabis delights, we embarked on our rain-soaked journey, blending determination with a hint of madness.
Droplets danced fiercely on our brows as we wrestled with tangled poles, laughing maniacally like deranged jesters. The fabric flapped violently, fighting back against our every effort, as if possessed. Slipping and sliding through the puddles, we unleashed happy cursing and triumphant cries as the final pieces fell into place.
Within the makeshift sanctuary, a clash of colors and textures emerged. Lounge chairs with Dabbin-Dad decoratives sprawled in defiant comfort despite the deluge. The damp air hung heavy with the aroma of dank cannabis, as we unveiled the arsenal – a fully stocked dab bar that shimmered like a beacon of hedonistic pleasure. It was on like Donkey Kong.
The rain poured down relentlessly, drenching everything in its path. The atmosphere was electric, fueled by the pulsating energy of the guests and the promise of an unforgettable night.
I found myself immersed, armed with the intention of distributing a dab to every individual who crossed our path. As party-goers materialized from the crowd, their faces filled with a potent blend of curiosity and skepticism, I dove in headfirst.
I approached each individual with a devilish smile, a glimmer of mischief in my eyes, and a dexterity that evoked a magician’s touch.
A dab, a simple gesture of camaraderie and connection, became the conduit through which this Dabbin-Dad odyssey thrived. With each person, the dab was given, a fleeting moment of contact that transcended conventional social norms. Each dab given out was a testament to the audaciousness of the human spirit.
There were those who eagerly embraced the opportunity, their eyes widening with delight as they accepted the gift. The haze of anticipation enveloped us as the dab was delicately placed onto a heated surface. Inhaling deeply, we became immersed in a world of intensified sensations, where boundaries blurred and perceptions shifted. From the person who came down from the neighboring apartment building to the carefree artist who was lost in their own world, the tapestry of humanity unfolded before my eyes. The tapestry was woven with stories and emotions, each individual offering a unique glimpse into a kaleidoscope of human existence.
I never made it inside, this was way cooler. It had to be, I never left. We were an after-party all our own.
