Last year I got invited to an “Eve-of-420” party at a club in San Rafael called Terrapin Crossroads, launched by Phil Lesh of Grateful Dead fame. There was valet parking, a rare treat for my 1986 Volvo. I told the attendant, “It’s not a jalopy, it’s a classic.”
As I approached the entrance a tall, longhaired person named Tree was giving away thin squares of chocolate laced with cannabis oil. Maybe more than I wanted to ingest. The dark confection started melting on my fingertip so I headed in to the bar to get a plastic cup, figuring I’d bring it home for future investigation.
A man was giving me a puzzled look as I guided the melting sliver of chocolate into the cup. “It’s an edible,” I explained. “I never got into edibles,” he said. I asked if he’d had an early bad experience with a brownie and he said yes. “I’m a Waldo,” he added, introducing himself as Larry. “The Waldos are real. We’ve decided to tell our story — how we started using ‘420’ as code for smoking marijuana.” Tell me more, said I.
Although the five friends all remained cannabis aficionados, they have kept their distance from the burgeoning industry —…