On The Road To Spannabis: Part One
A multi-part dispatch from Barcelona's premier cannabis conference
Hey everyone,
Buenos dias! Reporting live from the Barcelona airport at the ass crack of dawn on the road to Spannabis, Spain’s premier cannabis conference.
Quick note: I still haven’t edited the podcast with Mary Jane Gibson (sorry, Mary Jane), but the good/bad news is that abortion rights are still a pressing issue that not enough people are talking about ever, which unfortunately means it will probably still need to be fought next week and still be an “evergreen” topic (ugh). In the meantime, please follow her on Instagram and TikTok to stay afloat to whatever the latest legal assault on reproductive rights is while she makes a sandwich and fights off internet trolls.
Anyway, given that it was somehow a major hassle to get press credentials for a conference filled with white guys in 20 shades of dreadlocks and accredited travel journalists are no longer welcome or respected at the Delta Sky Lounge (which apparently now has lengthy lines of corporate card holders waiting to get in like it’s Berghain), I decided to really lean into this journey as a multi-part dispatch series.
Pre-Spannabis Packing Adventure
My pre-travel ritual consists of a pragmatic combination of packing while taking a trip down memory lane trying to find the giant bag of universal chargers I hid from myself like a needle in a haystack in a studio the size of a generous parking space. Inevitably I find myself cleaning the shit out of my apartment so that I return completely unbothered and this is why I have a five-star guest rating on AirBnB.
Also, the first track off Kim Gordon’s new trap noise album basically is a travel packing list, so give a listen while you read the rest of this.
Here’s how my evening went:
Had the saddest dinner for one at the gay bar in Chelsea, just in case I happened to die on my flight: meatloaf and a glass of cabernet while wedged between two couples giving me side eye as I stuffed my face (oddly reminiscent of my first restaurant/dating review column “All By Myself” in college called “A Burrito Big Enough For Two, Conquered By One”).
Used that sad energy to conjure my inner cunt: the young, stylish and sexy New York writer on her way to a drug party in Europe and galavanting around wine caves in Penedes.
Tried on six pairs of sunglasses to determine what that vibe will be (cunty).
Smoked something-or-another as part of my rapid purge into Great Spring Cleaning Season of 4/20: smoking out my stash, purifying my space, clearing the skeletons out of my closet, and dusting off my various stash boxes like little time capsules to find random items like an inhaler of Super Lemon Haze from 2019 from a company that most likely doesn’t exist anymore.
Wondered why I never get blazed eyes anymore, but also not mad about it (also-also: will I get red eye?)
Didn’t find my global charger, but did unearth a box of meticulously organized accordion files of tax statements from 10 years ago, plus a DVD player that will someday be as valuable as the limited edition Teeny Beanie Babies from the McDonald’s drive-thru.
Selected 6 different colored pens and a notebook that I will undoubtedly mark up with insightful notes while I am high at Spannabis that I can’t wait to read several years later, such as: “The only thing people love more than god is pizza.”
Threw in novelty papers from Field Trip because it’s important to flex.
Started wearing the sunglasses while plotting out my perfect six days ahead:
Begin and end in sweatpants (the Adam Selman joggers I got a couple years back have proven to be timeless investments of comfort and style).
Continue working my way through “Subculture Vulture” by Moshe Kasher. I actually enjoy taking my time reading a book and this one is really good so far.
Efficiently maximize my minimalist baggage. Once again opting for the Tortuga 45L Travel Backpack I’ve had since 2019 (!). While half of my recommendations are missing because GQ constantly updates the exact same page while scrubbing writers who worked on previous stories, this one has held up—important if you’re thinking about investing $300 into a backpack. Sorry if you missed out on the T-Mobile Un-carrier On collab with Samsara. That was a great suitcase at a very good price and you should have gotten it when I said so. It came with an airtag and built-in wireless charger, plus a bunch of packing accessories in a cool T-Mo magenta color for $50 less than the regular Samsara price. Anyway, I use that suitcase all the time now and love it.
Passport! Toothpaste! Sunscreen! The benign things that really matter more than you think they will! (This should actually be your first step, but it’s good to check again at the end).
Sexy-sensible footwear: the expertise of New Yorkers who pound the pavement.
Wine sleeves and a packable cooler (for the wine and cheeses).
A very well-loved Trtl neck pillow that is way overdue to be retired and replaced.
Day of, I packed whatever was left in my grinder into my Lune Noire hitter and popped a Camino. Some of you might wonder why I would do both of these things unless I am just a big ol’ Weedy McWeedster pothead. Well, I am that, but there is also purpose: to reduce anxiety and stave off boredom for the trip to the airport that is almost always a hassle, while also timing it to come-down on the plane so that I will be tired enough (hopefully) to fall asleep at 8 p.m. since my flight would be arriving at 1 a.m. EST/6 a.m. local time. It mostly worked, except the part when they wake you three times for dinner/beverage service/breakfast, knocking into the unnatural REM cycle I just unsuccessfully set up for myself.
Will I crash and burn? Will I get smoke weed? Will I remember the Spanish I studied for three years but only periodically use now and gave up half-way last month on DuoLingo because I know my left from my right and how to ask where the bathroom is? Stay tuned!
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