Are you of legal age to consume cannabis related news?
Have you heard about this new Delta-8 “cannabis?” Cannabis is still illegal for recreational use in the majority of U.S. states, but the cannabis industry is legal everywhere, and it seems like you can’t get away from Delta-8 these days.
Living in a state where real pot is illegal, I figured I’d give this fake pot a try. So I ate my first Delta-8 gummy last night, and now… it’s all I care about. I’m pretty sure I had other interests before, but now? I can’t remember what those are. Delta-8 is my entire existence. I’m a bonafide Delta-eightvangelist.
But what exactly is Delta-8, you ask? Having taken the day off work (which, honestly, I might just quit to start growing my own Delta-8) to learn all there is to know about this magnificent loophole, I can tell you that there are dozens of cannabinoids in the cannabis sativa plant. Delta-8 is similar to Delta-9, just — as far as I can tell — contains one less Delta. Because I ate that gummy last night and got blitzed. Seriously, this stuff is legit.
At this point I don’t even care that THC is still illegal here. Why would I, when I can walk into any smoke shop in town, loudly proclaim, “I would like one bag of your finest Delta-8, my good sir,” pay for it with my credit card, and walk out into the beautiful sunshine? Plus, I never need to call anyone a “budtender!”
And all of this is somehow legal. You just know some scientists at WeedCorp were like, “We can certainly isolate the THC delta for your tinctures, or slip-n-slides, or whatever, but there are actually other Deltas that’ll fuck you up, too.” And someone in marketing with a name like Brayden or Crayon tried it and said, “Wait! Can we just start telling people that, “No, no, this isn’t drugs. This is Delta-EIGHT,” and start selling it across the country?” Well, give Crayon a promotion, because this is somehow the best and worst kept secret in the country.
Thousands of people, mostly people of color, are sitting in prison cells for non-violent drug offenses; meanwhile every suburban smoke shop in the state is getting rich off Lululemon moms buying what seems like one big prank on local lawmakers. Seriously — I went through airport security this afternoon with a big sign on my backpack that said, “THIS BAG IS FILLED WITH DELTA-8,” and nobody said a word — not even when I started feeding gummies to the bomb dogs! One handler asked what I was doing and I simply told him, “I’m feeding your dog some perfectly legal hemp-derived products, my man!” He shook my hand and pinned a ribbon to my chest.
Naturally, after trying my gummy last night, I bought a giant bag of Delta-8 at Smoke Shop — that’s the name of my local smoke shop — took it home, individually wrapped each gummy, and just made deliveries to all my friends. I tell you, I was goddamn Santa Claus on Christmas Eve: only my sleigh was a blue Ford Fiesta, and my bag of presents was… yeah, just Delta-8. I’m still waiting for many to try them and report back, but if they’re not into it I can’t see us being friends for much longer. Like, I booked my tickets to the Delta-8 Expo in Los Angeles in November, and I need people to come with me. If I don’t get any takers from my current friends I’ll probably just move to L.A. to be closer to people who appreciate Delta-8 like I do.
I’m actually scared to even be writing about this. Someone will spill this secret in such a way that we’ll have to go back to the dark ages of texting our friends to buy a little extra next time they see their dealer. Someone will make a little too much noise in the wrong place, a local teen will make the news with a traumatic Delta-8 experience, Ted Cruz will realize black people can also buy Delta-8 — something!
But until then, this is my life now. I don’t know the names of my girlfriend’s children, but I know that despite Area 52’s sterling reputation for top-quality product, I prefer Moonwlkr’s flavor choices like Mango Kush and Watermelon Zkittlez. I used to enjoy things like bird watching, brunch, and folding sheets of paper into fun animals, but now all I do is invite my two remaining friends to stare out the window of my new apartment at the fading neon “Smoke Shop” sign until my eyes slowly drift shut and I fall into a blissful sleep dreaming of my new love, Delta-8.
Bradley Machov is a writer and improviser in Minneapolis, MN. Follow him on Twitter @bradleymachov
