The calendar reminded me of a story I wrote three years ago. Here’s a bit:
Four-twenty. Supposedly it’s the number of active elements in marijuana. Or the criminal code for possession. I think all that’s all just urban legend material. All I know is that on April 20th, back when I was in college at Santa Cruz, it was a very special day.
I remember one April 20th when I was hitchhiking up Bay Street to campus. A VW van picked me up and a blue cloud rolled out when the door opened. “Happy four-twenty,” said the driver, handing me a joint. It could have been 1969, but it wasn’t. It was 1992. Santa Cruz was like that.
Happy four-twenty, y’all.