“Free the Weed"
The Medical Marijuana and Ayahuasca Controversy
While this is a case with legal implications my story is about a 21st Century health issue that is as provocative today as it was during the country’s Big Depression in the 1930s. My protaganist uses honesty and common sense to weave a path of truth through the myths and lies that have festered, since we were misled about marijuana in the 1930’s. For decades, the benefits of marijuana were hidden behind propaganda like the absurdity of claiming “Reefer Madness” as true.
My inane ability to walk into bizarre situations was matched only by my courage to extricate myself from the risks of those situations. I was anxious but unafraid, when I traveled to interior Peru to attend an ayahuasca ceremony. If this vine had magical healing powers I needed the experience.
To compliment the Medical Marijuana impact on a person’s physical wellbeing ayahuasca claims to cure mental health problems like alcoholism and anxiety. Together they have the potential to change a person’s life.
The Mission Statement for my start-up business was to provide Mother Nature’s plant and vine derivatives to anyone suffering from pain or disease.
The international group sat in a ritualistic circle surrounding a shaman, who poured the ayahuasca liquid into each “drinkers” shot glass. The psychedelics that soon followed freed me to float into a different realm that was totally foreign.
The next morning I compared my trip experiences with those of a pretty girl who sat next to me all night. Turns out each of us felt slightly different. Our time together was too short, but the chemistry could not be denied. I promised to call her back in the States.
I invited a friend to travel with me to Peru for the ayahuasca experience and to check his interest in my start-up venture. He was eager to take a leave-of-absence from teaching, pack-up his life, and begin a new challenge.
On our flight back to the States, I learned about police arresting people for carrying Medical Marijuana. The pot-police confiscated the person’s drug and issued a $100 fine. My quick Internet research identified ayahuasca as a Schedule 1 drug, making it also illegal in the U.S.
I believe most businesses can be run the same way regardless of the product being sold. To that end, I had a business plan with an accountant, marketing manager, distribution runners and an international manager for Asian operations.
After my return, I accepted an invitation from a girl in my office to house-sit a cabin on a lake. I had lusted for her and was surprised she felt the same. In the morning, I walked to find a newspaper, but what I found was a naked man mowing his lawn and the receptionist dressed in only flip-flops. We laughed at being duped, but I convinced her to take-in the Nudist Colony pool party, where the pool etiquette provided uncontrolled laughter.
Exhausted from a busy day and crashing from an evening of smoking “Chicken Coop” weed and “killer hash” we dodged the orgy to quickly hit the road to Boston. Neither of us wanted the risk of driving tired, so I suggested we take the “bullet Tube” back to Boston. Traveling at Tube speed of about 300 mph 50 feet above the ground would get us near my place in an hour.
Our ride was enjoyable until we realized we boarded a Tube to Detroit. Traveling at that airplane speed we had to stop the bleeding asap. We decided to literally jump from our cabin at the next station. A girl in our cabin asked to leave with us to avoid the repercussions of being expelled from college. It didn’t feel right, but she convinced us she would not be a drag.
Out of desperation we stole a Tubetron parked on a spur behind the station because it looked as though it pointed east toward Boston. It was a fully computerized single unit that drove us to an experimental city called the City of Spurs. All of the buildings, walkways, and streets were exactly 50 feet off the ground to facilitate Tube travelers.
When the front desk called to describe a gang of men looking for the pretty young girl with us, we prepared to leave in an instant. Once she explained that between our jumping and stealing maneuvers, she had gone online to withdrawn her college funds along with the family’s emergency money. No doubt her Daddy sent these goons to get the money back.
Immediately, we became fugitives just being with her. In my mind we were also vulnerable to her claiming we kidnapped her and took her money.
With goons blocking all Tube escapes we had to find a different exit. We were warned about a legend that anyone who crossed a particular territory never returned. It looked like our only way out and we didn’t want to return, so we headed into an obstacle course with explosions going off around us. Although we crawled through it, we could have carried on our bodies the reason no one ever returned.
We split up for two days to be sure no one was following us. On the flight we’d planned to Boston the two girls were a no-show. I had to leave them because of my back pain.
Upon returning to Boston, the pain from my three back surgeries had returned with a vengeance. I needed immediate relief, so I went to a local Medical Marijuana retail store. What I found was a pretty business woman in line at the door. I took her for a drink to discuss my back, the steps for me to buy what I needed, and for me to sample the strain she just bought.
With her college business background and my experience as a CIO we agreed she’d add value to my no-name company. Since I continued to get my monthly supply of Oxycodone and Morphine from the Pain Clinic, she questioned the street value of my drugs as a quick way to raise capital.
Before I left for Peru I’d rented an old three warehouse complex on a beach near Provincetown on Cape Cod. It was a large, run down complex, with easy access to Marth’s Vineyard, Nantucket and Boston. It sat on a beach, which satisfied a desire I’d had since childhood.
Our first conference call was for introductions and responsibilities BETH, I met in Peru would do our accounting. PHIL, owned a farm that grew Medical Marijuana under a government contract. JILL, would find us database software. JACK, was a marijuana distributor who supplied most of New England and lastly, JOHN, happened to be “person in need” who had recently been arrested.
My business plan was becoming a reality with the right people doing the right projects. I jumped on the ayahuasca part of the business that firstly needed to convince people to spend $200 for one ceremony that would make them vomit to purge all their negative forces.
I warned anyone who hadn’t taken LSD or Peyote that this plant medicine would be intense. Some drinkers had been unable to describe the terrifying trips forced them into the worst situations of their lives. But it was generally agreed there was a sense of relief at the end with some raving their life had changed forever.
I decided to have an ayahuasca ceremony on the country’s most eastern tip at a beach off Race Point. JERIMAYA, was botanist I hired to tackle the ayahuasca gardens here and in Peru. Having done multiple ceremonies in Peru I selected him as our shaman.
We built a couple beach fires with candles and incense scattered in the sand for a party atmosphere. With gentle waves crashing it was conducive to relaxing and ideal for spiritual exploration, emotional healing and other personal expectations.
The next week the dreaded phone call arrived from RITA, who explained she had been into a meth addiction for a couple months with SALLY. Rita lost her job and needed a place to stay, so I picked her up from the Boston Ferry at the Provincetown wharf. Terry and I nursed her through withdrawal, after which I gave her the ayahuasca marketing job.
When Sally called, I listened to her story with shock. Turns out the woman she was with on the Tube wasn’t her mother it was a Private Investigator who had arrested her before the thugs. She needed a place to stay, so we took her in.
When Sally arrived she told us the woman was probably FBI. She suspected her easy escape might have been to lead them to us. I doubted they were after a particular-person they wanted to shut my business down because we were making a big dent in the states’ bottom-lines.
Although she was sure she lost them, I asked the girls to strip Sally looking for GPS bugs the FBI might’ve stuck on her. Sure enough they found three.
With the FBI racing to get us I put Sally on the Humvee telling her to distribute each GPS tag on different vehicles going in different directions.
Another “Sandy size” hurricane brewed at sea. It would no doubt make landfall near us with a similar storm-surge. We packed important papers, CDs and PCs into our underground Humvee. We had practiced this drill, so we did it all in about 30 minutes before the Hummer hit pavement. With the FBI racing to get us I put Sally on the Humvee telling her to distribute each GPS tag on different vehicles going in different directions.
A couple weeks earlier we heard a rumor of another situation I expected. Either the Mafia or a local gang knew of our business success. They knew about our drug inventory to replace confiscated drugs, and the cash we used to pay the fines for people arrested.
Beth, who was driving the Hummer called back to warn us there were three cars parked down the road with guys carrying guns headed in our direction. But they were moving slow because the hurricane was on us. We prepared by starting our Tubetron in view of anyone entering our main room. We left an identical Tubetron sitting behind ours. We left it for them to follow us, but we disconnected the brakes.
We took off fast and them right behind us, however, there was a switch that directed the tracks ever so slightly to the left, when our Tubetron passed over it. As planned they sped off to the left with no brakes approaching a cave wall with a large hole we cut through it. The tracks went straight to the hole, so the Tubetron became airborne at full speed.
When we heard cars driving through water, I surmised the FBI had arrived looking for us. If they entered the main room while the gang ransacked our offices all it would take is a single shot from either side to start a gun battle. In seconds, the FBI moved into the bunker thinking the guns inside were us. The gang inside returned gun.
We stayed at our safe house until the remnants of the hurricane were removed. Rita and I headed for Oahu, Terry and Beth to Florida and Jill with her new boyfriend flew to California. We were all going to take a couple weeks of vacation before we began our final project to run a country-wide version of our business.
While the details weren’t finalized I began to use our experience to set up businesses in Florida and California very much like the one we just left. Once a particular business grew to a set of our specifications it would spawn off a similar business maybe a few hundred miles away.
I envisioned the spawning methodology could take a couple years to complete at which time we could turn it over to John’s growing network of people-in-need. Then we could walk away feeling like we’d taken control from the government and given it to the people in need.