My first real interaction with anything cannabis-related was at the Bonnaroo Music Arts Festival in 2011. To save money, my friends and I had purchased cleanup crew tickets, meaning we stayed — sunburned, largely unwashed and dehydrated from four days of open-air concerts in the Tennessee hills — to help sweep the massive festival grounds.  There was a special term when we found anything interesting or valuable: someone would yell (or excitedly whisper), “ground score!” and we got to keep anything we could carry. My ground scores amounted to two like-new camp chairs, several bungee cords and a glass weed pipe swirled with orange and white. It reminded me of a creamsicle.  Had I ever smoked weed? No, no I had not. Did I plan to? I guess some part of me did, though my memory is a bit foggy now. But after staying sober through an entire music festival where drugs were readily available (the Molly era, IYKYK), it’s kind of hilarious to think that was my final act of defiance.  My boyfriend and I smoked weed from the pipe once or twice in the decade that followed; I couldn’t tell you where it ended up. And for a millennial who produces a cocktail festival and prefers a sippable social lubricant to smoking grass, cannabis, in its many forms, is not something I’ve ingested often in my adult life. It’s never made me feel amazing enough.  That’s probably why the CITY team agreed I was the best person to microdose for a story. But if I was going to do it, I was going to have some sort of hypothesis, and I was going to need data. I settled on the ongoing conversation about the loneliness epidemic, which alleges that people are going out less, drinking less and getting laid less — is it due to cannabis? Is it doomscrolling? A 2020 study by the National Library of Medicine found “marijuana, but not alcohol, use frequency (was) associated with greater loneliness, psychological distress, and less flourishing among young adults.” This was a hypothesis worth exploring. To say I was high for an entire weekend isn’t entirely true. To say I spent 52 hours microdosed on different strains of edible and drinkable cannabis is more accurate. But it was for science, and I was the lab rat. The theory: We’re in the midst of a loneliness epidemic. People are going out less, spending less, drinking less. Is weed to blame? The hypothesis: Choosing weed as a recreational activity usually eliminates third places, since smoking lounges and cannabis bars aren’t (yet) legal in New York State. Third places are traditionally where we gather, find serendipity, encounter new people and ideas, have meet-cutes — all the things that lead to a great story the next day and beyond. These interactions don’t happen from your couch. Based on my previous experience, weed makes me tired, hungry and more anxious in social settings. Could it be the culprit for less social engagement? The experiment: From 6 p.m. Friday until 10 p.m. Sunday, I would go through a typical weekend in my life, only changing one thing: I would forgo alcohol intake, and instead ingest 2-5mg of edible and drinkable cannabis a few times per day. (As an aside, I am historically very sensitive to cannabis and my alcohol tolerance is perhaps embarrassing to my ancestors.) The materials:  Ruby Farms vegan mushroom gummies; Off hours gummy rope; Nanticoke milk chocolate; ayrloom beverage enhancer (tincture); ayrloom half + half canned drink.  ROBERTO FELIPE LAGARES FRIDAY 5:40 p.m. Time to go shopping. I compare reviews and online product listings, eventually landing on Wicked Reserve Dispensary on University Avenue. I approach the cannabis “bar,” where the weekend manager, Trevor, is patient with my questions, guiding me through the New York State-produced inventory on an iPad ordering screen. I know sativa is the strain that makes me feel less sluggish, and indica tends to make me paranoid and sleepy. We select five products with differing strains — two drinkable, three edible — and he rings me up. I pull out a credit card; it’s denied. Payment is cash or debit only due to limited legality, which sends me driving a few streets back home to get my debit card. 6:39 p.m. It feels strange to pop a weed gummy instead of toasting at happy hour, but that’s what I do before heading inside the gym. The “Lions Mane Mango” gummy is savory, the texture satisfying.  7:16 p.m. I’m sweating and yawning as I move from an elliptical to a stairmaster, but it’s Friday so I’m not sure the gummy is to blame.  8:25 p.m. My friend and I are having a hot tub yap session when the gummy really hits. My entire bloodstream is rushing from the exercise, the hot water and the high. I down my bottle of electrolyte water — ah yes, now I remember how thirsty this makes me — and head home. 8:55 p.m. By now, I have eaten a generous amount of sour cream and cheddar chips and bread and butter pickles while I air fried pizza rolls (bless whatever party I bought those for) and chicken tenders. Hot honey and bleu cheese dips only. Why am I so dizzy!? 9:07 p.m. I shower and get a big idea for a consulting company: “What Could Go Write.” (LOL, oh. So that’s how those things start.)  9:36 p.m. A friend and I head to the Public Market, where we’re mounting a show in June, to plan the footprint. The recent rainfall glints off the cement under the lights. I take a lot of photos and stare, the reflection is mesmerizing.  10:20 p.m. I’m slurring words and fighting sleep from behind my mocktail at Cure, so my friend drops me off at home. How am I still high? This gummy is hitting like NyQuil. Let me sleep.  ROBERTO FELIPE LAGARES SATURDAY 8:30 a.m. I’m attending a baby shower this morning for one of my best friends, and I volunteered to pick up the flowers from somewhere near Seabreeze. The term “dazed and confused” makes a lot more sense now.  11 a.m. No microdosing until after the shower (respectfully), and no mimosa either. I did, however, absolutely house the brunch buffet options. 2 p.m. Home from the shower, I crack an ayrloom Half + Half (lemonade tea, like an Arnold Palmer, but with 10mg THC and 5mg CBD per can). Delicious. I drink a third of it and head out to meet my sister, brother-in-law and niece for a walk since it’s one of those rare 70-degree March days. 2:22 p.m. Already feeling warm and buzzy, but maybe I’m sun drunk? 3:15 p.m. Stuck at a coffee shop while we wait out a downpour. Classic Rochester weather. Ran into some friends, had to concentrate incredibly hard to play it cool during conversation because it felt like my brain was zooming in and out. 5:45 p.m. Smuggled an unflavored ayrloom tincture into the movies and added 5mg to a crispy cherry Coke. Halfway through Maggie Gyllenhaal’s unhinged flick “The Bride,” the popcorn and MMs start hitting hard.  8:21 p.m. True solidarity in friendship means going to Taco Bell after you eat a large bag of popcorn. Crunchwraps with a side of those weird little chips and cheese dip forever. 10:03 p.m. First time experiencing a sleep rope gummy, which has indents to measure milligrams and tastes like blueberry pie — Violet! You’re turning violet, Violet! It took about an hour to kick in then landed with a whoosh, leaving me dizzy and heavy. I folded a large amount of laundry and then fell fast asleep.  ROBERTO FELIPE LAGARES SUNDAY 9:15 a.m. Daylight Savings happened the night before, so all my clocks were wrong and it felt like 8:15 a.m. Drank another third of the ayrloom can before heading to pilates (5/10, would not recommend, dry mouth and thirsty for all of class).  10:50 a.m. Grabbed a coffee and knocked out some work. Felt a little buzzy, but it was a more focused energy this time.  2:12 p.m. Another unseasonably warm day, so my parents and I take a walk in the woods behind their house after lunch. Every color and sound feels sharper, but I’m floating in a base state.  7:43 p.m. I pop a 5mg Belgian chocolate and head to a birthday party. It’s DJ-level loud, there are people there who make me socially anxious and I decide to Irish goodbye. I do a shot with the birthday friend before I leave — the first alcohol I’ve had all weekend — and it warms all the way down my torso.  8:58 p.m. Arrive at Compline, a 25-minute weekly chorale concert by candlelight. The tequila and the chocolate prove to be a winning combo, and I close my eyes while the Eastman singers’ voices lilt through the church’s cavernous space.  9:40 p.m. Ending it full circle with a jaunt to McDonalds: double cheese no onions, small fry, hot fudge sundae. Thank you and goodnight.  ROBERTO FELIPE LAGARES The result: I asked for advice on my dosage amount, laid a good food foundation (clearly) and drank a lot of water, but my final conclusion is that cannabis doesn’t add value for me. I don’t enjoy the dry mouth, the super focus-dissociation waves or the dizziness; and the buzz leaves me feeling tired and a little anxious at times. (Alcohol can certainly have similar effects.) Regardless of the loneliness epidemic, cannabis does make me more apt to stay home in soft pants than strike out on a side quest. My highly unscientific opinion is that it depends on the person, so do what works for you. But leaving the couch is the only way to experience the outside world and find some serendipity.  Leah Stacy is the editor-in-chief of CITY Magazine and producer of Rochester Cocktail Revival. She loves to plan travel around dining and theater experiences. Find her reposting poetry and today’s egg @leahstacy. The post A martini-forward millennial microdoses for 52 hours appeared first on CITY Magazine. Arts. Music. Culture.. ...read more read less