It seems as though in order to comment on the current legalization-of-marijuana debate, writers must first recount their wacky “I tried it once in my youth” anecdote, so here’s mine.
In the summer of 1993, I was one of the few young people who really had traveled to Amsterdam to see the art. Up to that point, I had never sampled marijuana, had never even seen anyone smoke it, though a friend of mine had flashed me a glimpse of her stash in a plastic baggie. It looked like dust. I was terrified that at any moment we would be arrested for merely being in its presence.