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Well, ain’t this shitty: turns out, I made the terrible mistake of booking a seemingly perfect 10-night honeymoon getaway with the love of my newlywed life on the stunning Grecian isle of Crete… having totally forgotten that you’re not allowed to smoke weed here.

The minute my toes sank into the soft, pink sands of the mountainside beach where Feta cheese was invented, staring into the dazzling and endless azure of the Mediterranean with my most beloved, and I realized we weren’t allowed to blaze, I knew I’d screwed up big time.

Just picture how awful this is: nights of loud, decadent sex with the most beautiful person I’ve ever known, followed by mouthfuls of baklava and stuffed grape leaves beneath the glow of a perfect moon, the sea breeze tickling my sun-kissed cheeks, the waves rhythmically lapping to and fro… and neither of us can take a single bong rip. This sucks!

What the hell are we even supposed to do if we can’t smoke weed here? Do we just enjoy the crystalline infinity pool outside the romantic bungalow with kitschy pottery containing blooms and fruits, both puzzling and magnificent? Or do we indulge in the maritime tales of an olive-toned sailor with sinewy pectorals and a voice like honey as he escorts me and my beloved in his vessel to yet another day of absolute splendor? No way, dude. Hard pass.

My new wife and most fantastic joy suggested we try to spend a day in Athens to see the antique relics of a history more vast and rich than anything we could possibly conceive, including an ancient coliseum where the warriors of yesteryear rode chariots and slayed lions. Which, I’m not gonna lie, was pretty good as far as those things go. But it’s our honeymoon, and the only thing that would’ve made it truly memorable would be sparking a fat cone after summiting, looking out on one of the cradles of civilization. Instead, we just stood on top of some dumb old dome like a couple of schnooks fantastically in love. 

The lamest part of the trip, by far, was chartering a private plane to cruise alongside the luscious peaks of Santorini and then, once airborne, gazing upon the scattered stucco roofs of its antique cliff-side cottages. To reminisce with my love partner about what it would be like to wake up in a house like that and to know that it was home; to stand, embracing, on the jutting rocks of our new paradise, in awe of a mighty sea and of the quiet miracle of being alive together, will be wonderful to do one day, I’m sure. But in the moment, it was boring as fuck since we couldn’t smoke any joints in the plane. 

In conclusion, I’d like to offer some advice to the newlyweds out there: do your research. Make sure that before you decide to disappear gloriously to a place as beautiful as Eden, that it’s not one of those shitty places where you can’t even get high.

Tyler Dark is a stand-up comedian and writer from Maryland’s Eastern Shore.

Disclaimer: This Article Is a Joke

Speaking of absurdity, did you know there are still over 40,000 people locked up on nonviolent cannabis-related charges around the US? It’s time to let them out.

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