I am Edgar Phillipe.
In the process of my travels to Earth, I developed an obsession for weed. After the long space ride through galaxies, wormholes, rides on asteroids, I had nothing to do but study, and I took a huge interest in what your planet calls “weed.” On my planet it is called kibō. And now that I am here, on Earth, and have traveled around extensively, I can share some of the things that I have learned about your planet. I don’t know why I haven’t done it sooner. And They are coming.
Just to know: I shall not reveal the name of any dealers, pimps, or individuals that I might score from. Their anonymity is as sacred to me as it is to them. I do not know who is writing me for information; could be an eager, meager detective hoping to get another stripe, or a dumbass who doesn’t know how to keep their mouth shut. I shall only reveal establishments or locations where you may be able to get it… locations change/establishments close, and now that I am sitting on my favorite street in Bangkok, I see that things are business as usual. It might just depend on the night. Being as that may, I will still point you in the right direction. As always, don’t look like a dumbass, act like a dumbass, or treat those you are dealing with like dumbasses, and you won’t go against the unwritten, unmentioned code about buying kibō abroad.
Buying weed in Maui is super easy! I rented a car from the airport and drove to Iao State Park. Go in the entrance, drive around the cul de sac at the end of the road. There should be some boys there with surfboard racks on their cars at the end of the lot just before you get back on the road to go out. I was polite, and it reminded me just now writing this to always say hello and be friendly.
And this is how my conversation went:
Me—Hello guys, I was just wondering if you’ve got any green?
Him—You a cop?
Me—No, I just like colors, man. (I should’ve asked, “Do you see how bleached my skin is?”)
Him—How much you want?
Me—How much you got?
Him—Come with me.
He opened the trunk and brought out a backpack of the best weed I’ve ever smoked in my entire life. It was about a quarter ounce of sparkly, sticky icky that must’ve been fertilized with elephant semen. Or gorilla. I saw the universe open up and let me peek at it, flooded by moments of my life, it gave me religious experiences, earth-shattering orgasms, and moments of leaving this dimension to the far reaches of another one. In those 6 days, each time, foolishly without trying to devise a different system, I tried to roll a joint and it was like superglue on my fingers. I couldn’t fucking roll one. I had no scissors and coming from SE Asian where kibō can be broken apart and rolled up nicely, dry spliff though, and each time I was astounded that this was the length of my problem buying it. A really good problem to have.
Halfway on this heavily thatched bamboo and banana tree-covered road I parked my car in a small spot on the side of the road, light up, and blew up. Like…my brain shattered into pieces that fit back together better when they reattached. I didn’t know that the name of this strain was Firecracker. I’m not sure what the name of it was, actually, but I would’ve named it Firecracker. No, I take that back, UFO Landing is a better name. It was so good that the thoughts flashing through my head slammed my ass into a beautiful half-paralyzed stasis, and at one point, drooling. I think I was there 137 hours and each phase of being human played into each hour differently. I became a thumb-sucking baby, I took on the role of Kal-El, I planned my family, severed the ties of somethings in the past. I had sex with every single woman in the entire world, all flashing back to me, back to thumb-sucking baby, and carried its way through. I’m lucky to be alive and to be human!
After that I watched sea turtles swimming in rocky patches of a small corner in a road-side park, snorkeling off of dive boats into coral reefs and wrote 1000 books in my head. It was $200 for this glorious bag, but when I saw how much he kept shoveling into the bag, I almost shouted “Jesus Christ” before I handed over my money and tasted it.
In the town of Paia there’s a guy who did see my ghost-like skin coming and took this Eagar, Meagar Man for $100. This was a different trip, different circumstances. I stayed on a side that had an enormous tree, a magnificent swing. This tree, it’s scraggly branches full of green leaves held ropes twenty feet long, like the arms of a daughter being held by the spotting hands of her father. It rained everyday mid-afternoon then always looked like it was going to rain, the sun occasionally peeking out to say hello and warm the air down below. I had a woman in my car that was an uneasy person by nature, made me uneasy about this… ah fuck it, no, I fucked up and became The Eagar, Meager Man. MY BAD. Her actions had nothing to do with mine. Luckily it was only $100, but it was my third and final time of being the Eagar Meagar Man in my life because it reiterated to me not to be a dumbass and taught me about one very smart rule: never give your money to someone to go and get your kibō. Don’t be like me, leave me to being me, and buy down on the beach at the public park from one of the guys walking around carrying backpacks. These are just a few of my Maui experiences. Three out of 18 years’ experience of doing deals and conducting myself in other countries in life isn’t that terrible. It’s not that bad to be The Eagar, Meagar Man overall. Overall.
After my last and final 420 ripoff, I ended up on the beach sulking a bit and was approached by a guy with a backpack who sympathized with me. “Hey man, if they do that, that’s bad business here for all of us. I’m sorry that happened to you.” The cost was $50, a smaller bag, but that trip I didn’t have enough time to smoke big fatty ones, only short, little puffs to enliven the soul.
Banana Bungalow in Wailuku is also a pretty great hostel to stay and party at. Wailuku is in a bit of a tough neighborhood where looking at someone can get you problems. Keep your eyes wandering, but never lock eyes with anyone if you wander out around and away from the hostel. BB is located down a quiet strip. Each day they take a van of travelers for tips around the island in a big van, a great way to make friends and lots of connections. Be yourself. You’re traveling and can be anyone you want, so be yourself, don’t be pushy or like the Eagar, Meagar Man and you’ll be alright.
And this info can be applied to anywhere you go. Now, Maui and Hawaii in general is about as open to weed as you can get. I think they don’t legalize it because they don’t want the entire planet to flock there. You might get asked by the airport driver, you might get approached on the beach, at a concert there; you never know where those 420 Angels are hiding.