Close Encounters with the Law



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Nancyb

"I was down at the Owego Creek with my old high school boyfriend. We'd hooked up with each other after marriage, divorce, children, and he was now teaching health education at the middle school across the street from where I lived. So one sunny summer morning my children were with their grandparents and he invited me out for a drive in his old blue VW van. We lit up our big fat joint (he'd supplied it and rolled it, mine were always thin and fell apart after two tokes) and enjoyed it together, looking out over nature, alone together, sans enfants, and who pulls up on the road above us, a State Trooper. 

 
Well. the joint was gone, but we were paranoid and my friend has his job and his son to lose. As for me, an old college student, my ex husband would probably attempt to get custody even though I do recall his chopping up a pound of weed in our kitchen. Would the courts believe me, I wondered, he was such a good liar. 
 
The trooper ambles down the creek bank. He walks over to us. The sun glints off his shiny silver shades and badge."You fishing here?" he asks."Fishing?" my friend says. "No. no, we aren't fishing.""That's good," says the trooper, "because if you were fishing here and you didn't have a license, that's a big fine you know."And he turned and walked away.
"

kenmerrimanmd

"I am now 66 1/2 years old. I am a presently retired from almost 35 years of practice as an orthopedic surgeon, and while this was not 100% of my own volition, but it is not really such a bad thing. My father was a general practice physician as was my grandfather and great grand uncle, while Father's brother was an internal medicine specialist, which was somewhat unusual in that time. Both my father and uncle graduated from Detroit College of Medicine and Surgery (which eventually became Wayne State School of Medicine) in 1921. Dad was 55 when I was born and 60 when my sister came along. He died of a second stroke ( the first left him with no sig residual) in 1958 when I was 10. I had always thought that I would go on to become a physician it just seemed like the thing to do although it was never stated by Dad "in so many words."I did go on to graduate from Wayne State School of Medicine 1n 1974. 

 
College was also at Wayne at an "experimental" college called Moneith. These were countercultural days/ Days of Rage / anti War etc. Everybody smoked pot, me included, and I liked it quite a bit. I did not much care for alcohol, as did so many of my friends and other drugs didn't have much appeal, but cannabis was what did. I used cannabis frequently and sometimes daily for about the next 40 years. This was pretty much clandestine, as you might imagine. 
 
There were never any significant issues until Sept 2012. It was at this time, while driving home from a long day of seeing patients and a late surgery ( of course in retrospect not such a bright idea) that I partook of a small amount of the herb. I was pulled over for tinted windows in my car( a used Escalade that I had bought a few months before, and I really didn't like the tinted windows but hadn't gotten around to removing them). The officer arrested me for possession of a minuscule amount of the herb and DUI. Thus began my experience with the War on Drugs.
 
Initially things went on close to usual as the legal system chewed on the matter for close to a year. I live and work in a smallish semi rural community, but there was almost no scuttlebutt concerning this, somewhat to my surprise. What little there was came from the police running this mouths about the issue -- what else would you expect? Eventually I "self reported" the issue to the state licensing board and was directed to contact HPRP (Health Practitioners Recovery Program). You are told that if you comply with their proscribed program that you will be able to keep your license. This is not always true, as with so many things the government and people in general tell you. 
 
The hospital knew about it, as did my partners, and while no body including me was terribly enthused, it all seemed to be going quite well and I was working and reasonably busy for an old guy who took his time with the patients ( I tended to be the low producer although I was the senior guy for what little that mattered). By this time it had gone thru the court and I was complying 100% with the somewhat onerous demands of the HPRP people (usually say that they are a really nice bunch of Nazis). Got 6 months limited driving which was not a big problem and one year of local probation with a very nice and relatively sympathetic probation officer and a 2 year course of the HPRP thing. This included individual therapy group therapy meetings with an addictionist and 3AA meetings per week as well as 2 Caduceus meetings per month, a ton of paper work and of course "random" urine tests as well as a few hair tests (which are a bunch more expensive). All in all, it is an industry which generated big $$ from its participants (victims).
 
Well, this was bad enough but tolerable until out of the blue in Sept of 2013 I got registered mail summarily suspending my license: it stated I was a danger to the community. Of course I was surprised as were all of the minions at the "recovery" center where I had to get much of my duties complied with. They were helpful, as were many friends and patients who wrote letters of support, and we "lawyered up" with a guy who is kind of renowned for licensure issues, and even he was a bit surprised. He said that 6 months previously this would never have happened, but that things were "changing now."
 
The real upshot of it seems to be the attorney general of Michigan, Bill Schuett, a real political animal who was really pissed off at the people of Michigan for having the audacity to vote overwhelmingly for Medical Marihuana (in Mich law they spell it with an H go figure).When they issued the summary suspension they also, of course, issued a news release to the same effect. This was of course picked up on by the local media with a bit of a flurry of articles and stories. 
 
For the most part the stories made me sound pretty good. I had been past president of the local medical staff, past president of the Michigan Orthopedic Society, done orthopedic work overseas in Pakistan during the Soviet-Afghan war as well as in Somalia and Eritrea and Ethiopia. They pointed out that I was a well thought of practitioner for 34+ years. The internet comments to these stories were ~95% positive. The summary suspension was "dissolved" by an administrative law judge ~ 10 days or less after its issuance. This was without the need for an apperance with the judge. 
 
In spite of not too bad press the wire had been tripped. Because of the summary suspension, I was dropped from Medicaid and Blue Care Network "right now." I also had to voluntarily relinquish my hospital privileges as I had no license. My partners then saw fit to tell me it was time to retire because of bad publicity, even though it didn't seem too bad. Such things are common in the business and it was mostly to move me out of the way for a younger fellow who was having a bit of a problem earning enough to match his very generous guarantee. Age discrimination at its best.The hospital gave me my privileges back but they were not of much use as starting up a new practice at my age in the present health care environment would have been truly stupid and a good way to squander my retirement savings. The hospital was willing to help me open an office but not to employ me, which I viewed as a non-offer. 
 
At around that time, I developed severe back and leg pain associated with moving tons of junk out of my office to home and or to the dumpster or paper-gator. Subsequent X-rays showed a low of arthritic change at the thoraco-lumbar junction so I decided to "retire." With no malpractice coverage I once again relinquished my hospital privileges. Luckily, the pain gradually deminished to tolerable over a couple of weeks and I can now be reasonably active, but those X-rays were ugly!!!
 
Retirement is not so bad and it does make it much easier to go to all of those damn meetings. Also not dealing with the computers and the gov't and ins companies is good. I do miss the patients and the problem solving and the craft of surgery. It seems unlikely that I would be able to return to orthopedics, considering the situation and the "brush with which I have been painted." Many if not most positions would not consider me, and for this I am somewhat sad. Presently I have about 23 weeks (or ~ 156 days but who's counting) to go with the wonderful people at HPRP. When I am done with this after July 2, 2015 I may well go to work for a fellow I know who runs a cannabis certification clinic not too far from where I live. That might be interesting . I have been trying to learn as much as I can as regards medical cannabis and it is truly fascinating. Luckily I made a pretty good living when I worked and we put enough away that having to return to work in not required but it might just be fun -- maybe even a Brave New World! 
"

"Many years ago I was driving around the Big Island of Hawaii. Naturally, I bought some weed and it greatly enhanced the experience! But the trip was coming to a close and I still had a fair amount left. 

 
On the last day it was rainy and my companion and I were visiting a national park. As I left the rental car and closed the door I instantly realized I had locked the keys inside! Luckily a very nice park ranger was on hand with a slimjim device to help me get into the car. She was young, and seemed pretty cool. I wanted to thank her for helping me out so I took the leftover weed out from the trunk and asked her if she wanted it. 
 
The look on her face instantly clued me in to the massive mistake I had just made. I looked at her chest: badge! I looked at her waist: gun! I had just given my weed to a law enforcement officer! 
 
She looked at me sternly - with a somewhat puzzled look - and said "Where did you get this?" I stammered and came up with some BS about how I found it on the ground on the other side of the island. She thought for a second and told me she'd dispose of it properly. 
 
PHEW. I've done some dumbass things in my time and that ranks up there with the best of them. DJ, Oakland
"

  • Cath

    ""

"My brush with near-life-imprisonment came in Nepal. I was visiting my friend Carol, a fashion designer working in India. One weekend, we took a short flight to Katmandu and as soon as we arrived, she said, "Let's find some ganja." Which we immediately did, as itseems she knew where to look. After a fiery Nepalese supper, we made it back to our modest hotel with our treasure-- one bud for Carol, one for me. 

 
It smelled amazing,the most intensely fragrant pot I'd ever experienced. I'm sure we got a little high just breathing in the atmosphere around its gooey crystals. But then we realized "where can we actually smoke this stuff??" It presented a problem as it was extremely illegal. Suddenly, and wisely, we tucked it away among our things. The next day, after a little hike in the foothills of the Himalayas, we returned to our hotel room to find two young men nosing around. They were immediately flustered and fled. And of course we panicked. Had they been looking for the ganja?? Or were they just curious about the two tall attractive American women?? 
 
After putting my suitcase back in order, I discovered I couldn't find my pot -- it just wasn't there. So we came to the conclusion that, YES, they were little thieving Nepalese teenagers out for a quick pot score. Oh well. Maybe it was just as well. We returned to India the next day. Carol having ditched her bud, and mine stolen from our room, we breezed though the seriously invasive customs search unscathed. And I flew back to New York about a week later. Arriving at JFK, I again had to open my suitcase to customs officials. And again, no problem, since I knew I was ganja-free. They rummage through my purse and I'm totally relaxed. I sail though, jump in a cab and make it back to 20th Street. 
 
Next morning, I'm in need of mascara, so I reach for my purse, unzip my makeup case. And there it is, in all its fragrant glory. The beautiful smelly bud that I had tucked away in my blankest of memory gaps. The weed that might have put me in prison to this day! Angela, Taos
"

stefaoki

"Hello! My name is Stefanie. I am 51 years old and have been smoking pot since my brother introduced it to me in the fifth grade. College graduate, no jail, no heroin. I pay my taxes. Hate to have to hide my usage...

 
Everyone hides it! I know doctor's, lawyers, church goers....they all hide it...
 
Jump ahead fifteen years for my close encounter with the law! So, I was living and working in Alaska. My father, who was the largest minority contractor in the state at the time (Japanese-yea...ALL my Japanese relatives smoke pot! Even grandma!), always had great smoke, and shared it with me often. 
 
So, my dad and I are at the airport, going through security. Although Alaska was a state which allowed less than an ounce on your person, we usually never carried it around, and especially not through airport security! Well, it didn't even cross my mind that they would go through my backpack, but I also forgot that I put it in there. It was in the front pouch, nonetheless! I had an eight inch pipe and about a 1/4 oz. Well, with my father right behind me, and my backpack on the conveyor belt, the officer on duty proceeded to pick up my backpack and open the front zipper. I was totally calm because I did not know it was in there! I saw it, my day saw it, and so did the officer. 
 
To my amazement, he zipped up the pouch, went through the rest of the backpack, rather quickly, I might add, and waived us on without a word. Nobody said a word! Not even my dad, who I'm sure was beside himself! I think the police officer, and he was a REAL COP, was shocked because when he saw it, he looked at me and my dad, then I looked at my dad and then back at the cop. Then he zipped it up! Holy Cow!!! My heart was racing! WHY did he not take it? WHY did he let me go? I'll never know. But THANK YOU!!!!
"

thaJonster

"I'll just say there have been several very scary close-encounters. To imagine a productive, intelligent, creative individual getting into so much trouble for something so helpful and harmless is preposterous. To think that so many have spent our lives in abject fear of those whose job it is to protect is a tremendous failure of our society. We aren't criminals and to have lived most of our lives in fear is a shameful reality. I'm relieved there is light at the end of the tunnel."

kate420

"I was traveling from Fresno to Ventura, CA via Amtrack. There is a stop in Bakersfield and the remainder of the trip is by bus. After leaving the train I was headed to the bus to get to my destination. I noticed a group of people surrounding the luggage by the bus I was to take. A plainclothes officer asked me my name. After telling him, he said the drug dog had alerted them to my baggage. They asked if there was any drugs in it and I responded, "no." I explained I did have a recommendation for marijuana so I was legal and there has been plenty of weed in that bag in the past. They asked if they could look and I stupidly allowed them to look. They found nothing. That made sense because I had edibles in my pocket. The dog apparently noticed and came over to me. I just kept loving him up, scratching his ears and distracting him. He'd walk away then come back to me. One of the officers said, "He really seems to like you." I agreed, lol. I hopped on the bus to see many judgmental staring eyes on me. I took a seat, started talking with 3 other women. I explained what had happened and they all agreed it was absurd that they would check my bag so thoroughly. I'm a 64 y.o. grandma and legal! On the way to Ventura I talked with my 3 new friends and even shared my edibles. I made a few friends that day but one turned out to be a kind, understanding woman who happens to also be a grandma. I'm actually grateful that incident happened or I wouldn't have made a very dear friend who also happens to grow weed. And it felt pretty good to be sharing my bounty with others who were very appreciative."

tokeolosi

"A Cautionary Tale (Note: names, dates and locations have been changed or “vagued” to protect both the innocent and guilty)

***Kids -- I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home...***
 
Act IMid-spring, 2004, 5:30 a.m., at a small municipal airport in the Pacific Northwest, with a one-way ticket to Southwest Florida. I was on my way to meet my girlfriend, Susan, to drive with her back to the Pacific Northwest in her Geo Metro, along with a significant amount of her worldly possessions packed into every nook and cranny we could find in the little car. We would be spending about 12 hours a day in the car together, for four straight days, in the equivalent of a two-person Gemini space capsule. Given the fact that, up until that time, we’d essentially drive each other crazy after a relatively short time under the best of circumstances, I was a wee bit apprehensive that we’d survive the experience intact without some sort of diversion. 
 
To address this potential, I deemed it necessary to take along some “chemical diversion” not easily obtained at a retail outlet along the way: a couple small buds of marijuana and a fair helping of homemade cannabis butterscotch. Susan had ready-access to her drug of choice: white wine. To facilitate utilization of the bud, I also packed a small “pipe.” It was a beat-up stem of an old bong; 3" long by 3/8" diameter aluminum tube with a one-hit bowl attached to one end. I’d partially crimped the lower middle of the tube with a pair of pliers so I could use it as a “chillum,” and although I had used it in the past, it’d been several months since. (This wasn’t my primary smoking device, and my cannabis use was quite low at the time anyway.) The thing really didn’t even look like a pipe, more like an unusable fragment of something long forgotten. Besides, “paraphernalia” is legal in the state where I live, so I didn’t give it much thought as I tossed it into my “cosmetics” case, which I packed in my carry-on bag. I had the pot in a “micro” baggie that I put in my shirt pocket. My general rule of thumb is always carry obvious contraband on your person; under normal circumstances a person is never physically “frisked” during an airport security check, only “wanded” for metals. (I was careless to have just put it in a pocket. I should’ve put it down the front of my pants, but, with less than three hours of sleep the previous night, I wasn’t thinking too clearly.) I packed the candy in the carry-on along with a few food items. 
 
I went to the ticket counter to get my boarding pass. Just before the clerk handed me the pass, she circled something on it with a yellow highlighter. “Mr. Smith, you’ve been selected to undergo a complete luggage and personal search.” Due to sleep-deprived incoherence, it never occurred to me to head to the restroom and “clean up my act,” so I went directly to the security checkpoint. The “full search” entailed the standard X-ray scan of all items and a metal detector walkthrough. In addition, I underwent a complete “body wanding” (hand-held metal detector scan) and my carry-on luggage was physically searched. While one security person proceeded to wand me, another systematically went through my pack. I passed the wanding, but when the pack-searcher got to my “cosmetics” case, she pulled out the beat-up bong stem, gave it a sniff, an appropriate grimace at the odor, and proceeded to call over the police officer standing nearby. I went into shock. The cop came over and dittoed the security person’s visual and olfactory examination, including the requisite grimace when the odor hit her nasal passages. She then informed me that I was going to be cited for possession of less than an ounce of marijuana, a misdemeanor that carried a $250 fine; my very first “drug offense”."
 
*Ouch!*, but not the end of the world. When I said I thought paraphernalia was legal, she informed me that indeed that is true. What is not legal is “lingering residue.” “Oh. Wow. I had no idea. I didn’t even know that thing was in there.” (blablabla...) I didn’t say much. I felt like a total fool, was just shy of scared shitless, and my brain was working in basic reptilian-survival-mode. Knowing the old adage of “where there’s smoke there’s fire,” I now expected to be thoroughly searched. The pot didn’t concern me; I already had the citation in the bag. What did concern me was the candy; I wasn’t sure, but I thought that “altering” marijuana (such as concentrating into hashish) was a felony. State Pen, here I come... (I was being a bit overly melodramatic in my head.) Later, I couldn’t find any information to back-up that assumption. So I now believe that the candy falls under the same heading of “misdemeanor.” But at the time, Oh Shit! I could tell that she was mulling over the situation: “he has marijuana paraphernalia (though somewhat unusual), therefore he probably has marijuana in his possession.” 
 
She was in her fifties; her general demeanor was no-nonsense. She was obviously not a rookie, yet seemed to be struggling with how to proceed. She finally wrote the citation and let me go. I wasn’t frisked, nor was my carry-on more thoroughly scrutinized. She never even asked if I had any pot on me. I walked over to the boarding area, which was only about 40 feet from the security checkpoint, and sat down. There were only a few other people sitting in the area, and no one was nearby where I sat. About 15 minutes later she walked by, slowing near me as if she intended to address me, but didn’t stop and proceeded back to the security area. I got on the plane with the drugs... and then never touched them during the road trip. (Susan and I did have issues along the way, but nothing that required medication on my part; she did buy a bottle of wine, though.) 
 
I really don’t know why the cop acted the way she did, except to say that this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me. It’s not that I have any control over this kind of situation. Far from it. I am clueless, on autopilot, just waiting for my fate to unfold, and I say very little – almost like a scared kid or something. On the other hand, there seems to be something about the vague way I “shut down” when “caught with my hand in the cookie jar” that seems to vibe people into a sort of confusion that causes this somewhat odd behavior. I have a few even more bizarre tales like this from years gone by. 
 
But why even take the risk? Attitude. I think one reason I deemed the above worth the risk is that I seem to have this perpetual underlying drive to, in my own way, thumb my nose at this society’s utterly hypocritical views on recreational drug use, *especially* with regards to marijuana. Another reason, and perhaps why I was a bit too cavalier about the pipe to begin with, is that I also have a significant history of getting away with stuff like this – sometimes equally poorly thought-out, but most of the time I do have my shit together. I’ve learned that “discretion” is every bit as important as “planning,” but then again, “just plain dumb luck” has saved my ass more than once. I just happened to get caught this particular time. As I said, this was my first official drug offense, in 30 years of what at times had been excessive and blatant cornucopic drug use. Perhaps I’ve been lucky; perhaps I’m charmed. This is just who I am; it’s worked so far. So, I learned never to take any *metal* paraphernalia through airport security...
 
However: Act II Midwinter, 2007, 11:30 a.m., at a small municipal airport in the Pacific Northwest, with a round-trip ticket to Southern California. I was on my way to surprise my best friend for his 50th birthday. We’re a couple of “70’s stoners,” which encompasses a significant amount of our shared history, so of course we hadta have some weed to properly celebrate... I decided not to take any paraphernalia; it’d be easy enough to score rolling papers or fabricate something that’d do the trick when I got there. The pot concerned me though, because it was so aromatic that even when bagged up good it still reeked. I didn’t want to “waft” through security... 
 
Back in the 70’s, a friend learned while in the Air Force, that the “Cadillac paper” the Air Force used as high-tech packing wrap for shipping jet aircraft parts was impervious to odors, so much so that he successfully used it to foil even the dope-sniffing dogs that were periodically brought through his semi-private dorm room. “Cadillac paper” was silver Mylar, similar if not identical to that now used in some processed food packaging in place of the traditional “tin can.” I’d saved a few of these packages after eating the contents. Another trick I learned from an old hippie, who grew pot and sent large quantities of skunky bud through the mail for years without a problem. The gist of it was to double-bag the pot and put a little bit of Comet or other bleach-containing cleanser into the outer bag. The bleach supposedly destroys any vapors that seep through the pot bag. So, being the brilliant idiot that I am, I put the pot in a baggie, put the baggie in the Mylar pouch along with a half-teaspoon of Comet, and sealed it all up with a hot iron. The pouch was almost flat and fit in the front of my pants completely unnoticeable. It worked like a charm... I also took along some of my famous cannabis candy. 
 
When I arrived at the airport, I put the Mylar pouch in the front of my pants, stuck the bag of candy in my crotch, and walked into the terminal. I obtained my boarding pass at the ticket counter and, after double-checking everything in the restroom, got in line to pass through security. I loaded my carry-on, shoes and assorted miscellaneous items on the conveyor belt for X-ray scrutiny, and then proceeded through the metal detector. BEEP! “Sir, would you please step back through the detector and make sure you’ve emptied all your pockets.” I went back through the detector and double-checked. Nothing. Walked through the detector again. BEEP! “Sir, would you please step over here.” 
 
I went into shock. I had just leaned that *silver* Mylar is *metalized* Mylar... The security guy got out the wand and had me assume the position: arms out to the side, legs slightly apart. He ran the wand over my body. When he got to the area above my crotch – BEEP! He lightly felt around the area. “Are you sure you’ve removed everything from your pockets?” “Yes.” He felt something in one of my pockets and asked what it was. By the way, I’d also gotten some prescription painkillers from Susan for my lower back pain that was acting up; I reached into my pocket and pulled out a couple Percocet (a.k.a. OxyContin, Rush’s drug of choice) and Vicodin. However, he wasn’t interested in my Schedule II and III pharmaceuticals. “Are you wearing a money belt?” “No.” 
 
In the middle of all this, my legs were literally shaking, though my pants sufficiently obscured the motion. The thought went through my mind: just pull it out and get this over with. Then: NO, HE HAS TO FIND IT HIMSELF; HE HAS TO *WANT* IT. I kept my mouth shut, and kept vaguely pointing to my metal pants snap as if that was to blame. After three or four passes, he looked at the wand, double-checked the auto-adjust sensitivity and wanded me again. BEEP! “I don’t understand it. There’s nothing there and it keeps going off.” He hung up the wand and said I could put on my shoes and go. 
 
HUH??? He didn’t *want* it... Right then another security guy brought my bag over and said he’d have to check the contents, because the X-ray showed up something suspicious. (Oh fuck!) I asked what it was he was looking for, and he said a lighter. I told him where it was, he took it, closed up the bag, and off I went. However, the adventure wasn’t over yet – shock is an interesting psychological phenomenon. I walked “nonchalantly” to the escalator, down the corridor and into the restroom near the boarding gate. I went into the far stall; there was someone in the adjacent stall. I made some noise and flushed the toilet as I pulled out the pouch. I tore it open and pulled out the baggie. And a half-teaspoon of Comet fell out onto the floor. Oh shit! Anthrax! Okay, anthrax that smells like bleach, but still. In these paranoid times, a bunch of whitish powder on the floor of an otherwise scrupulously clean restroom could draw unnecessary attention. I exited the stall before the other guy finished, put the baggie in my back pocket, and threw the pouch into the trash. 
 
As I left, I realized that the silver pouch was plainly visible to anyone standing near the trashcan, very out of place. I was too freaked with the other guy in there, so I went out and sat down for several minutes so I wouldn’t look too suspicious going back into the restroom so soon. As I was pretending to read, I noticed an overpowering odor of bleach. (Oh shit! again...) I went back into the restroom. This time I was alone. I pulled the pouch out of the trash and the baggie out of my pocket and washed both, to remove any fingerprints from the pouch and Comet from the baggie. I wadded up the pouch in a bunch of paper towels and threw it back into the trashcan. I brushed the residual Comet out of my pocket as best as I could, put the baggie into my carry-on, and went back out and sat down. Several minutes later, it dawned on me that I wasn’t at the right gate! Just then, I heard my name called over the PA system!! (shitshitshit!!!) I hurried back the way I came, down the escalator on the way to the other gate, passing within 40 feet of the security checkpoint, and was quickly ushered onto my plane, wafting bleach along as I went. I was a total basket-case the rest of the day. But I got the pot to the party...;-)
"

tokeolosi

"Three concert quickies: KISS, L.A. Forum, 1976(?): I had a Tic-tac container with a few joints in it, covered with electrical tape. I have it tucked into my sock beside my ankle. L.A. cops doing the pat-down at the door. The cop touches my ankle, pulls out the container and asks "What's this?" "A case." He hands it back and waves me through.

 
Frank Zappa, UCLA Pauley Pavilion, 1977. Floor seats right on the main isle. I'm puffin' away on my pipe, when one of L.A.'s finest reaches out, takes my pipe and says "Don't let me see you doing this again" and walks off with it.
 
 I'd just finished the last of my stash. Hanging out at the L.A. Sports Arena the night before to purchase tickets for Ozzy Osbourne, 1981. Everyone's feelin' good. A pair of L.A. cops slowly cruisin' through the parking lot, stops where we were, the driver calls over someone and has him smell his hand. Reeks of cannabis residue. He giggles and slowly drives away.
"

kenmerrimanmd

"MY STORY. I am now 66 1/2 years old. I am a presently retired from almost 35 years of practice as an orthopedic surgeon, and while this was not 100% of my own volition, it is not really such a bad thing.My father was a general practice physician as was my grandfather and great grand uncle, while Father's brother was an internal medicine specialist, which was somewhat unusual in that time. Both my father and uncle graduated from Detroit College of Medicine and Surgery (which eventually became Wayne State School of Medicine) in 1921. Dad was 55 when I was born and 60 when my sister came along. He died of a second stroke (the first left him with no sig residual) in 1958 when I was 10. I had always thought that I would go on to become a physician: it just seemed like the thing to do although it was never stated by Dad in so many words.

 
I did go on to graduate from Wayne State School of Medicine 1n 1974. College was also at Wayne at an "experimental" college called Moneith. These were countercultural days/ Days of Rage / anti War etc. Everybody smoked pot, me included, and I liked it quite a bit. I did not much care for alcohol, as did so many of my friends and other drugs didn't have much appeal, but cannabis was what did. I used cannabis frequently and sometimes daily for about the next 40 years. This was pretty much clandestine, as you might imagine. 
 
There were never any significant issues until Sept 2012. It was at this time, while driving home from a long day of seeing patients and a late surgery (of course in retrospect not such a bright idea) that I partook of a small amount of the herb. I was pulled over for tinted windows in my car(a used Escalade that I had bought a few months before and I really didn't like the tinted windows but hadn't gotten around to removing them). The officer arrested me for possession of a minuscule amount of the herb and DUI. 
 
Thus began my experience with the War on Drugs. Initially things went on close to usual as the legal system chewed on the matter for close to a year. I live and work in a smallish semi rural community, but there was almost no scuttlebutt concerning this. to my somewhat surprise. What little there was came from the police running their mouths about the issue, what else would you expect? Eventually I "self reported" the issue to the state licensing board and was directed to contact HPRP (Health Practitioners Recovery Program) . You are told that if you comply with their proscribed program that you will be able to keep your license. This is not always true, as with so many things the government and people in general tell you.The hospital knew about it, as did my partners, and while nobody including me was terribly enthused, it all seemed to be going quite well, and I was working and reasonably busy for an old guy who took his time with the patients (I tended to be the low producer although I was the senior guy for what little that mattered). 
 
By this time it had gone thru the court and I was complying 100% with the somewhat onerous demands of the HPRP people (usually say that they are a really nice bunch of Nazis). Got 6 months limited driving, which was not a big problem, and one year of local probation with a very nice and relatively sympathetic probation officer and a 2 year course of the HPRP thing. This included individual therapy group therapy meetings with an addictionist and 3AA meetings per week as well as 2 Caduceus meetings per month, a ton of paper work and of course "random" urine tests as well as a few hair tests (which are a bunch more expensive). All in all it is an industry which generated big $$ from its participants (victims).
 
Well this was bad enough but tolerable until out of the blue in Sept of 2013 I got registered mail summarily suspending my license, it stated I was a danger to the community. Of course I was surprised as were all of the minions at the "recovery" center where I had to get much of my duties complied with. They were helpful, as were many friends and patients who wrote letters of support, and we "lawyered up" with a guy who is kind of renowned for licensure issues, and even he was a bit surprised. He said that 6 months previously this would never have happened , but that things were "changing now."  The real upshot of it seems to be the attorney general of Michigan Bill Schuett, a real political animal who was really pissed off at the people of Michigan for having the audacity to vote overwhelmingly for Medical Marihuana (in Mich law they spell it with an H go figure???). When they issued the summary suspension they also, of course, issued a news release to the same effect. This was of course picked up on by the local media with a bit of a flurry of articles and stories. For the most part, the stories made me sound pretty good. I had been past president of the local medical staff, past president of the Michigan Orthopedic Society, done orthopedic work overseas in Pakistan during the Soviet-Afghan war as well as in Somalia and Eritrea and Ethiopia. They pointed out that I was a well thought of practitioner for 34+ years. The internet comments to these stories was ~95% positive. The summary suspension was "dissolved" by an administrative law judge 10 days or less after its issuance. This was without the need for an apperance with the judge .In spite of not too bad press, the wire had been tripped. Because of the summary suspension I was dropped from Medicaid and Blue Care Network "right now." I also had to voluntarily relinquish my hospital privileges as I had no license. My partners then saw fit to tell me it was time to retire because of bad publicity, even though it didn't seem too bad. Such things are common in the business and it was mostly to move me out of the way for a younger fellow who was having a bit of a problem earning enough to match his very generous guarantee. Age discrimination at its best. The hospital gave me my privileges back but they were not of much use as starting up a new practice at my age in the present health care environment would have been truly stupid and a good way to squander my retirement savings. The hospital was willing to help me open an office but not to employ me which I viewed as a non-offer. 
 
At around that time I developed severe back and leg pain associated with moving tons of junk out of my office to home and or to the dumpster or paper-gator. Subsequent X-rays showed a lot of arthritic change at the thoraco-lumbar junction so I decided to "retire." With no malpractice coverage, I once again relinquished my hospital privileges. Luckily the pain gradually deminished to tolerable over a couple of weeks and I can now be reasonably active, but those X-rays were ugly!!! Retirement is not so bad and it does make it much easier to go to all of those damn meetings. Also not dealing with the computers and the gov't and ins companies is good. I do miss the patients and the problem solving and the craft of surgery. It seems unlikely that I would be able to return to orthopedics, considering the situation and the "brush with which I have been painted."  Many if not most positions would not consider me, and for this I am somewhat sad. 
 
Presently, I have about 23 weeks (or ~ 156 days but who's counting) to go with the wonderful people at HPRP. When I am done with this after July 2, 2015 I may well go to work for a fellow I know who runs a cannabis certification clinic not too far from where I live. That might be interesting. I have been trying to learn as much as I can as regards medical cannabis, and it is truly fascinating. Luckily I made a pretty good living when I worked and we put enough away so that having to return to work in not required but it might just be fun, maybe even a Brave New World.
"

wcchamp4

"It was probably around '95-96.... A former friend/roommate wanted to go back home in California (we lived in Michigan) for a 4 day weekend. Well, we scored 2 oz of some KILLER weed, and it was the best I ever had. On our last night there, we had partied for a few hours and wanted to get some food. so we ended up @ Taco Bell at 12-1am. The drive thru was moving so slowly. My friend had the bag between us, stinking up the car badly. Well, there was a cop car with K9 dog behind us. The dog was barking like crazy for what seemed like forever. We just wanted to get our food and get out of there. We finally did, and and as we were about to pull out of the lot, 2 more cop cars pull in. 

 
I thought for sure we were busted, and I would be calling my parents telling them that I was arrested in California for pot possesion. Well, we did not get pulled over and made it back to where we were staying, and smoked 1 last joint before passing out. Now, since it was our last night there, we still had some bud left, and didnt want to get rid of it. So, my friend triple bagged it in zip-lock bag, taped it, and wrapped in a box like a Christmas present. He packed it in his carry on luggage. I thought for sure he would be busted at Security by the x-ray. Nope...we made it back home to Michigan with no issues, and we happily enjoyed the rest of the awesome California bud!!
"

"We were married in Sept. of '85 and had a honeymooned in Europe for 2 weeks. We'd flown from JFK into Belgium on People Express, the first low-cost economy airline, for all of $99 each way. (Oh yeah.) But our real destinations were Paris and Amsterdam, in that order. We loved both. But Amsterdam stood out for what it still stands out for. And George was like the Pinball Wizard at an arcade -- in heaven. 

 
Having been so thrifty with our airfare, we had some cash to spare. So of course, George bought weed and hash, but especially hash since that was harder to get a hold of in the States. And hash was heavenly. Heavenly hash........ Well, he bought so much of it that even with my help we couldn't finish it all before we had to fly home. I cautioned him that he either had to smoke the rest of it or leave it. I sure wasn't going to pack it and there was no way we were flying home with it and having him risk getting caught at customs and sent to jail. I told him I had no desire to lose him so soon in our marriage! 
 
He assured me that he'd finish it off and be done with it. So I thought he did. Not long after we returned home, George produced the hash. I was a little perturbed that he'd lied to me and horrified that he'd taken such a chance, but obviously glad he'd gotten away with it. (We probably lit up in celebration of that fact.) But it did teach me one important thing about my new husband: he was never, ever going to waste a good high. Johanna, Buffalo, NY
"

"If my long-term memory serves me, back when I was 16 - 17, I had a part-time job working at B.Altman's dept. store. This would have been around 1973-74. I worked as a stock receiver, which being under 18, was the only job B. Altman's would give me. So I worked in their cavernous basement, with its long, long rolling metal tracks for moving merchandise, receiving stock of all kinds, checking it against the invoice, & pricing it with a sticker gun or a tagger that I would set to the directed price. (This, BTW, is how I learned that doubling the wholesale price was the standard business protocol in retail, and that merchandise was originally priced-up to be marked-down for an eventual "sale"; a good bit of education for a teenager.)

 
 The work was on your feet and monotonous of course, but really not so bad. Best of all was that there were plenty of other people like me down there so there were friends to be made. And times being what they were, the hour-long lunch break was good for more than lunch. One day, as we often did, we went outside to the less commercial and way less populous side of the dept. store, on 35th St., and lit up someone's joint.
 
 We all stood huddled, more or less, into a circle and passed it around. At one point, I felt someone brush by me. This being during a weekend lunch hour, it wasn't like it was rush hour with people moving fast, jostling. Plus, this was NYC and like any New Yorker, I was acutely conscious of my personal space; the "bubble" that is crucial to every New Yorker. As I jerked around to see who had brushed by me on this otherwise empty street, I looked up to see a small group of cops walking ahead, one of them a female, and, given her position, the one who had most likely brushed by me. 
 
Fortunately, the shock of it generated a wonderful giggling jag rather than the paranoia it could have. It also generated a stoned-tinged rapturous joy among us that we hadn't been caught. To this day, I can't believe that they didn't smell the smoke. I can only guess that, like us, they were enjoying a beautiful Fall or early Winter day and didn't want to be bothered by a small group of white teen-aged kids just peaceably enjoying it too. Cindy, NY, NY
"

"We were newlyweds, recently back from our 2-week honeymoon. It was a heady time. And NYC was supposed to have a hurricane. Hurricane Gloria. G-L-O-R-I-A. A BIG hurricane; history making. New Yorkers were being advised by the news media to buy flash lights and extra batteries, to stay home and put masking tape diagonally across our windows so as to prevent their shattering and being blown inside. Schools were closed, the casinos in Atlantic City closed, even Wall Street was closed down. Elsewhere, there were evacuations. It was to be a doozy of a hurricane. 

 
But the good thing was: NYers got a free, excused day off from work or from school, whichever of those two applied. And it didn't matter: adults were pretty much as thrilled as children with a snow day.However, for NYers, the hurricane tued out not to be. It either changed direction or petered out early, and NYers, both disappointed and relieved, were spared. It was the hurricane that wasn't. It just wound up being a media event as everyone stayed home and watched the non-hurricane on TV all day long. (You didn't need to have cable to watch CNN; all the channels had non-stop coverage.)
 
By late afteoon, the hurricane was officially declared over and the non-event that it was, and it turned into a stunning day, the kind that NYers thrive on. We also had cabin fever so everyone, from what I could tell, took to the streets and the cafes and the bars to celebrate our victory over nature. We were elated and triumphant; we had SURVIVED. (Then as now, such is the nature of human behavior after a media bombardment of doom and gloom reports, regardless of the reality.) So like everyone else, Paul and I left our Chelsea apt. and walked down to the Village to Washington Square Park which was teeming with happy revelers. We walked around, soaking it all in, and eventually sat down on a park bench and did the only logical thing to do. We lit up Paul's pipe. 
 
Washington Square Park has roads, but they are closed to traffic. Except for cop cars. We were happily toking away when a cop car, slowly roving and quiet as a hybrid, (which were yet to be invented), appeared out of nowhere. Granted, we were high, but it literally just materialized in front of us. Paul had just taken a toke. He was holding the still lit pipe in the palm of his hand and held his breath to keep from exhaling the smoke. The cop car didn't stop. It seems impossible that the cops didn't notice us smoking something we passed between us, but incredibly, they kept on going. I guess they were as elated about the events of the day as everyone else and didn't want to be brought down by having to bust us. 
 
It truly was a GLORIOUS day. Ellen, Hoboken, NJ
"

"During the summer of 1981, Tom and I took a road trip vacation to Nova Scotia, Canada. Bearing in mind this was pre 9/11, crossing the border into Canada wasn't much more involved than crossing the border into another state. We had a stash that Tom initially thought would be best concealed in my purse, as he didn't think they'd ask for it. Shortly before getting to the border inspection gate, Tom had a premonition that that wouldn't be a good place for it after all. Instead, he put it behind the lens of his camera. When we got to the inspection, the first and only thing the border guard asked to inspect was my purse! Phew! Disaster averted! Sherry, Chicago"

Bec

"Several years ago, the hubs was doing a bit of 'creative' gardening (in our veggie garden) and was within a week of harvesting. (I should preface this with the fact that our neighbor - who occasionally shared the benefits - was going through a nasty divorce at the time and his wife was very, very vindictive) The hubs had gone to run some errands and I was home alone when there came a knock at our front door (we don't get too many visitors as we live on 17 acres in beautiful Tennessee country) When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a very, VERY tall uniformed officer. His partner was in plain clothes (later found out he was a detective with the Narc division) They were very polite and told me that they had received an anonymous 'tip' (neighbors wife) about some questionable 'veggies' in our garden, and they wanted to take a look. I froze and the next thing that came out of my mouth is something I will NEVER live down with our friends. "Sir," I said, "...it's my husbands garden and I can't give you permission to look." I continued, "Could you come back in an hour when he'll be home?" 

OK...so I was freaking out! The plain clothes detective told me then that, at that time, they didn't have a warrant. No one was going to get arrested at that time, but if they had to go get a warrant, they would search the entire property. Arrests would then probably be made. At that precise moment, the hubs drove up the drive way and I could have kissed the ground he walked on! He saw law enforcement on the front porch and had a quick thought about something his Dad had told him many years before...'The truth shall set you free!' He got out of the car and walked to the fellas and when they asked him the same question about searching, he said, 'sure' and proceeded to take them to the garden. He took them right to the 7 plants he had growing and to my surprise, they were very impressed with them. They complimented him on the grow and told him how impressed they were and stated that he must have a green thumb, and that they were the prettiest plants they had ever seen. Of course, they had to take the plants (ripped those babies right out of the ground!) and proceeded to fill up the one trunk with our beloved 'babies.' One comment I will never forget from the plain clothes detective was when the hubs casually mentioned that he was within a week of harvest and was sad that he'd never get to 'taste' it, the detective said that '...if we drop any, you can keep it...' All the while this was going on, I was on the phone with our attorney who was freaking out that I'd asked the police to 'come back in an hour...' He gave us some good advice and we cooperated fully. We were told that he (I was not going to be included!) would not be arrested, but that the Grand Jury would be convening in 3 months. If charges were to be filed, he would be notified. 
3 months passed and my hubs was getting antsy for the 'shoe to drop.' He decided to take the bull by the horns and go down to the jail to see what the Grand Jury had decided. We said a tearful goodbye and he left to potentially get jailed and have to serve time. Long story short, there was NO warrant...no charges! He came back home and we celebrated with what the police had 'left on the ground' for us! (Funny thing though, in retrospect, the plants that the detective took was NEVER put into evidence bags...the plants were put loosely into the trunk of his unmarked car. We found out much later that the 'evidence' had never made it to the station!!) I'm sure that the plants, once dried, gave many people a wonderful experience! Several years later, hubs has found a much more creative way in his gardening and we continue to live in peace!
"

007

"I'm 29 years old now and 4 years ago I lived in Malaysia, and as you all know it's a Muslim country and ganja or whatsoever is prohibited. All my times there,  I only come back to my country (Nigeria) one time a year and during that whole year I don't smoke due to the country's law, me and my friends call it rehab time for us. 

During the Xmas of 2012, I traveled back home to my country and the first thing on my mind was hitting a joint, so I hooked up with my homie, we organized almost 4kg of ganja hoping that it would sustain us till I went back in January. Immediately we left the seller's home we linked the highway then I saw a road block with police doing stop and search and right in the trunk of my car the bag full of weed was lying -- not even in a hiding place. I was sweating and my homie was like damn, this is going to be serious but I tried to keep calm, so when I got to the police check point I made sure I made eye contact with them and kept calm. The police told me to wind down the glass and I did so, he didn't even bother to say anything and just told me to move, wow....I felt so relieved and happy after I left because every car on the highway that day they stopped and searched...We left and got back to the hotel room smoked out and we did the same thing on and on till the last day I would be flying back to Malaysia. I thought we've finished the whole ganja available and I was feeling so fresh to fly back to Malaysia, my friend followed me to the airport and I took off, arrived Malaysia and everything was cool and back to my rehab mode, a week after I was packing the shoes I took to Nigeria and cleaning them to put back to my wardrobe and I checked one of my adidas shoe box there I found some weed I could smoke for 1 week. I was so scared like how did I managed to bring this in to this country that never takes such case as a joke, with the quantity I mistakenly brought back to Malaysia it could be 10 years to life, I was so scared that I called my friend immediately and told him what happened, he was shocked but at the same time I was happy because I never thought I could see a supply till the end of the year again... A few minutes after I found this I rolled up and here I go blowing it off real quick...maybe j should be rotting in jail right now....LOL
"

KristiM

"I have been smoking marijuana since I was 12 years old. I was born and raised in Northern CA, the heart of the Emerald Triangle, and my first taste of it was from a friend whose step father was a cop that grew it...but this is not my brush with the law.

My ex and I were daily smokers, always after work and never just before driving. But this one time, we'd had a bad day at work, and a friend joined us at home after work, and we blazed one up to unwind from our day. We then realized that we had no food in the house, so we figured we weren't THAT high, and Taco Bell was only a 5 minute drive away. Well, I was so cautious...doing exactly the speed limit, checking (and rechecking) my mirrors, using my turn signal, coming to full stops. But as we were nearing TB, we noticed a cop on our tail. My friend, who was in the passenger's seat, was FREAKING out. But I was cool, calm and collected as I turned into the TB. The cop turned in as well. CRAP! Now I'm starting to freak. But we placed our order and pulled through, followed by the cop. We are trying not to constantly look back, or visibly shake...and it seemed to take FOREVER to get up to the window for our food. With slightly shaking hands, I paid for and received the food and carefully pulled out, watching the cop in my rear view mirror. He was getting food too. Rather than go down the main road, I took the back road, keeping an eye on the mirror. I saw the cop start to pull out, and hesitate...I was well down the side road, but could still see him. He started to go down the road we'd taken, but then turned around. We took a series of side roads and made it home safe. It scared the bejesus out of us so badly, we never drove under the influence again.
"

tommyfnw

"i was speeding to get to work and i had a lot of weed in my trunk and a 1/4 in my pocket. got pulled over for speeding and the officer was just going to give me a warning. i thought he was going to make me stay in my car and give me the warning ticket, but nooo. he asked me to come into his car. i reeked of pot and thought i was going to get busted. he handed me the ticket and then asked me if i have been smoking pot today. without skipping a beat i said " yep" that is why i was speeding because i smoked some at my house. he asked me if i had any on me and i told him "no" i left it at home. he asked me if he could search my car and i said ok. my heart was beating 10000 MPH, but he said he trusted me since i was so honest with him and did not search my car and let me go. from that day on i never had that much weed in my car again. -- tommyfnw"

missjudy

"When I was forced to take a pic with a DARE police offer and his big ass German Shepherd dog ,I was shitting bricks! I had skunk on me, a good eighth LOL. Dog did not attack. Back in the Dazzzzzzzzzzz!"

satoner

"2 weeks ago on a visa run to Laos I was smoking a joint overlooking the meekong river, waiting for the wife who was shopping, and a policeman pulled up in front of me and started staring. I'd seen something of a badge on his arm in the dusky distance as I looked side to side while smoking and lowered the joint in my right hand as he approached from the left, just in time I stubbed and scrunched it before he was in front of me.Then two soldiers with guns pulled up alongside him, they spoke and went to pull in to dismount and approach me. For the second they weren't looking at me as they pulled in I threw the joint behind me down the bank of the river and stood up, took a swig of water and walked away. They changed their minds and left me alone. I had more weed in the hotel and it really did spin me out until I left Laos. The seeds and sticks were so overpriced by the rickshaw drver that the police should have done the guy for ripping me off. Crazy thing is all the locals smoke it and want to sell it to you, and you can buy addictive sleepers over the counter at pharmacies. When I retured to the hotel, paranoia saw me flushing the shit deal I had bought. Asia is a perfect example of the control of big drug companies!"

satoner

"2 weeks ago on a visa run to Laos I was smoking a joint overlooking the meekong river, waiting for the wife who was shopping, and a policeman pulled up in front of me and started staring. I'd seen something of a badge on his arm in the dusky distance as I looked side to side while smoking and lowered the joint in my right hand as he approached from the left, just in time I stubbed and scrunched it before he was in front of me.Then two soldiers with guns pulled up alongside him, they spoke and went to pull in to dismount and approach me. For the second they weren't looking at me as they pulled in I threw the joint behind me down the bank of the river and stood up, took a swig of water and walked away. They changed their minds and left me alone. I had more weed in the hotel and it really did spin me out until I left Laos. The seeds and sticks were so overpriced by the rickshaw drver that the police should have done the guy for ripping me off. Crazy thing is all the locals smoke it and want to sell it to you, and you can buy addictive sleepers over the counter at pharmacies. When I retured to the hotel paranoia saw me flushing the shit deal I had bought. Asia is a perfect example of the control of big drug companies!"

krystyn

"I was 17, in Fort Myers, FL, with two of my best friends. We scored some ganja from a cool local. It was 7AM & our most talented friend rolled us a beautiful joint. Walking down the serene beach, it was my hit. Had the j in my hand, saw an angry looking fellow storming towards us. Already high, I thought, "I'll just hold it like a cig" & continued hitting it. He came up to me & I basically blew it right in his face. "IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!" He was an off-duty cop. Us: "...yesss.." Glaring at me, he goes "WHAT IS YOUR NAME" "..Krystyn.." I wasn't about to give my full name. "WHERE ARE YOU FROM" he demanded. Me: "....far away...." My friends then stepped in & confessed, Buffalo. He then told me to destroy it. I truly did NOT want to litter on the beautiful beach so I simply said, "um, I'm not sure how." He then swiped it from me & ripped it up & threw it on the beach. "Get out of here." As soon as he walked away, we started laughing uncontrollably. We were to happy to be there (& to have found weed) to let it get to us. We walked right back to our hotel, rolled another joint, & carefully swam out into the ocean to smoke it. We thoroughly enjoyed the rest of our trip. And continue to joke about that early Fort Myers morning."

Holysmokes

"I live on a small island town off the South Carolina Coast. About 20 years ago I was playing in a band. While on break, the piano player and I decided to duck out of the club for a quick 5 minute drive down the road to visit another club. As soon as we got in the car we lit up a joint. As we casually took a few hits we knew we didn't have long but it would be fun to just drop by to see the other group. Well, no sooner did we put away the half smoked joint we went around the bend in the road and came upon a full on road block. Oh shit... we quickly rolled down the windows and my friend who was driving, fumbled to get his licence ready.. Oh shit again he left his wallet at the club and didn't have his licence on him. We both tried to remain cool as the officer stuck his head in the open window and asked for licence and registration, my friend very politely explained we were musicians from the club up the road and"

Holysmokes

"Part 2... (had editing issues) So my friend said to the officer we were just making a quick trip to just see the other band playing at the club just up the road and that he left his wallet at the other place..he looked at both of us and said hold on I'll be back... To this day we don't know how or why but the officer returned asked for our names and addresses and said "okay go ahead but you really need to have your license with you at all times" This experience was quite intense and something I will never forget... However, this was the second time I had a similar experience with this same friend, while driving none the less. All I can say is that both he and I are very conservative in appearance and as long as the odor of weed isn't around you'd never expect that we were weed smokers."

Rs422

"My name is Ron. I'm a 45-year pot smoker. On my way to work one day, I smoked a whole joint. 5 minutes after smoking it, an old lady ran in front of my car trying to catch the bus that wasn't stopping. I ripped on my brakes and hit her and knocked her out of her shoes. Bus stopped, police came and put me in the back of the cruiser. Bus driver defended me. Old lady was OK. I reeked of pot, but I was let go. Was really scared I was going to get busted. Whew."

deric

"Reefer was really new to our community. 1965. A friend and I sat down by the river bank preparing to roll one. I heard a car door slam so I got up and went up the bank to see. There was a cop and he was headed for us. I don't know why because he couldn't see us for the trees and where he was, further back. I turned back around and said to my friend 'toss it it's the cops'. Well he threw the bag into the river but it just sat there in a little eddy current. The cop saw it and with eyes as big as silver dollars stared at us like we were dealing heroin. He fished out the bag. It's been so long but he must have taken us into custody but released us. Then a day or so later a cop grabbed me downtown as I walked along and put a chem spray thing to my face. Didn't use it but just being safe. You know how a person can get when they are high and filled with adrenaline. I met my friend in jail. We only sat there for a few hours. My dad got me out. Then on our court date my friend got a new three piece suit and his wife was horrified that I only wore a nice shirt and clean jeans to the trial. Our lawyer said his piece but I could see he was embarrassed to be there with us. The cop testified under oath that he saw the weed in our hands and saw us throw it in the river. Impossible because of where he was when we threw it. Case dismissed. We were on the front page of the local paper. The first such case in several counties for sure. My poor parents. Oh well it's all over now. Deric in S. Minn."

"Two years ago while fighting a reckless driving charge in Connecticut (21 mph over the speed limit becomes reckless driving in Ct) my attorney tells me about a little known defense to beat the charge by claiming temporary diminished capacity (whatever that means). He tells me the judge will order me to see a private psychologist for about four to six sessions, and then the charge would be dropped. Since I was dealing with a psychologist at the time, going through a divorce, I figured why not. My attorney submitted the application to the courts for the program, and the judge accepted the application. 

 
However he not only required me to see a private psychologist for six sessions, he also required me to see a state psychiatrist, and be put on supervised probation until the next court date. I went off on my attorney, as he never mentioned "probation" being a requirement to this little known defense to have the charge dropped. My attorney assured me it wasn't probation, probation because probation would require that I was found guilty of the charge, and that wasn't the case. Since the application had already been accepted by the judge, I very reluctantly went along. 
 
As I feared, that afternoon the probation officer informed me I would be drug and alcohol tested, was there anything she needed to know before the test? Screwed!!!! I smoke pot. She immediately read me the riot act about it being illegal, and she would include the test results in her report to the judge. Since my private psychologist was fully aware of my pot use for the last 44 years, and probation was going to inform the judge, I immediately informed the state psychiatrist of my pot use. He also read me the riot act about it being illegal, and my one visit ended up becoming four visits. A few days before my next court date, I informed my attorney what had transpired. He informed me that probation did not have the right to drug test me. Nice to know..... Standing with my attorney in front of the judge, the judge acknowledged my completion of the court ordered process, but then informed my attoey he would not drop the charge due to my testing positive for an illegal substance. My attorney argued that probation did not have the right to drug test me, and while the judge agreed that probation should not have drug tested me, they did. And because they did, and I tested positive he would not drop the charge. The judge then told my attorney I would have to stop smoking pot, and test negative before he would drop the charge. To my surprise my attorney answered the judge that he would not ask me to stop smoking pot. Then my attorney asked the judge if he had read the reports submitted by my private psychologist, and the states psychiatrist. The judge hesitated for a few minutes, then told my attoey he would see him in chambers. Needless to say I was dumb founded. 
 
I waited outside the court room for my attorney to re-appear. When he did he stated, "I have good news, and bad news, which do you want first?" I didn't care. "The bad news is the judge won't drop the charge. The good news is the judge has ordered you to apply for a license to smoke pot legally before your next court date in 45 days." Come to find out, although I knew my private psychologist would recommend my continued use of smoking pot, come to find out the state psychiatrist made the same recommendation. All I had to do was get a medical doctor to submit an application on my behalf to the state, and the charge would be dropped. It only had to be submitted, it didn't have to be approved, just submitted and the judge would drop the charge. OK, not a problem. 
 
That afteoon I made an appointment to see my medical doctor the next day. Not a problem right? Wrong!!!! My doctor, and four other doctors refused to submit an application to the state to obtain a license to smoke pot legally due to the fact I had no medical condition that would warrant the completion of the application. I didn't have cancer, or any other medical condition that was required, to apply for a license. Even though I explained to each doctor I was being ordered by the judge to apply for this license, they refused to apply. At that point I had to make a decision. I had 30 days left to stop smoking and test negative before my next court appearance, or show up to court still testing positive, without having filed an application. I was caught between a rock and no other place to go. I stopped smoking. Two weeks before my court date I met with my probation officer, who once again tested for drugs. Not much you can do when they say you are being tested, even though I wasn't suppose to have been tested in the first place. The probation officer contacted me two days later stating I still tested positive, and that would be the report she would submit to the judge, she would see me again in three weeks. I asked to be tested right before I was to appear in court, and she refused. It took my attorney to request one last drug test the day before my court appearance, and have the results expedited to the court first thing the next moing. I showed up the following morning and waited outside the court room for my attorney to appear. Five minutes before court was to begin, my attorney tapped me on my shoulder from behind. "I just came from the judge's chambers, go home, the charges have been dropped, your tests came back negative." I thanked my attoey, immediately went home, and having stuffed my favorite pipe full of pot the night before, lit it up as soon as I got in the door. 
 
I admit, not having smoked for just over thirty days, it was a great high!                       GC - now living in NYC
"

Raglandgene

"After I completed an internship in 1971, I was drafted into the military under special draft act #46 of the US Congress. There was a shortage of doctors in the military near the end of the Vietnam war. An excess of doctors were drafted, and I was given the option of postponing my induction for a year. I spent 8 months of that time traveling on a motorcycle across the US and into Mexico. I crossed the border into the US during Nixon's operation intercept. I had a baggie of grass stuffed in the handlebar of my bike. The US customs officer ordered me to park my bike and asked if I had any alcohol or drugs. I said yes, a bottle of Tequila and some drugs. When I told him I had some Valium and Demerol, he ordered me to bring them with me and took me into the office. He told his supervisor what I had and emptied my bag of drugs onto the desk. Vials scattered across it. I told the officer that I was a doctor, had been traveling for several months and that all drugs were legally prescribed. He asked me for proof that I was an MD. I showed him a copy of my state license, MD degree from medical school and certificate of internship. I had collected these documents after a prior encounter with the law in Stone Mountain, GA. He shooed me out of his office and I rode away with my undiscovered stash!"

Kev J

"TELL YOUR STORY!  Please include your real location and your first name or an alias. Check this page in a few days to see your post here. By submitting your anonymous story to MarijuanaMemoir.com, you are giving permission for it to be used in a future collection of weed stories. "

bobbylu69

"my name is bob & live i n nc,while @ work I left a half lid [oz] in my locker a co-worker found it & boss called law they had de-crimalized less than a oz.this was 1999.I only got a ticket & in court i got off lite: even when my co- worker showed to testify he didn't even get to."

Alexiscull

"So one day, my 3 friends and I thought it would be fun to hot box my car, and then go and get some Culver's. After we smoked about 2 blunts and hit the bong a few times, we got some Culver's. This time they were the ones who supplied everything, and smoked me up. After i dropped them all off, being as stoned as i was, i totally forgot to turn my headlights off!! I was making a left turn, about 2 minutes away from being home. I see a cop and start to get super paranoid, suddenly he drives over the median and gets behind me. After the light turns green, i see his lights go off. I was SO terrified. My car reeked. He then tells me the reason he pulled me over was because of my headlight. Of course he smells the weed. He asks to search my car, and doesn't find anything because my friends luckily had taken all of their belongings when they left. He has me take a breathalyzer test, and of course it's negative. And he still proceeds to have me walk in a straight line and follow his finger with my eyes. He commented a few times that i looked high, and my eyes were red, i was so high i said " I had a rough day, been crying" and he proceeds to ask my "why?" and i bust out laughing, i was high as hell. Luckily, he wasn't an asshole and let me go home without further questions!! It was definitely a scary experience, but I still have never been caught after 3 years smoking. :)"

"While touring one winter with a very famous boy band in the 1990's we had concert dates all up the east coast and across the U.S.A. and up into Canada. As was the road rule, the bus driver was to stop at a rest stop a few miles before the border to "do a little house cleaning." Everyone got all of their stash and put it together. Having been touring for over 15 years at the time, some of us were very familiar with a lot of different crossings, back in the day before 9/11 and enhanced check points.

 
If it was late and a small post we knew that a lot of the small backwoods crossing worked on the "honor system." You would call into a big station from the phone at the post and would be checked in on the phone!  We just put the weed into a tupperware bowl and put it on the shelf in the front lounge and were on our way. As we come around the bend in the road we see that the lights were on and that there where 3 guards and a new guy standing outside when we pulled in to the lot as the production mgr. was getting everyone's papers gathered up we heard the head cop tell the "newbie" they were going to show him how the "big post's " do a border stop. Well, we really weren't expecting anything like this and it wouldn't take very much to find the stash just on my bus and there were 5 other buses. 
 
Just as they were finishing up collecting everyone's passports and were putting their "search gloves" on, around the corner come 4 big beautiful shiny black with a silver stripe down the side tour buses, but not just any old bus but the bus of reggae legend "PETER TOFT " tour buses and with the sweet,sweet sound of the reggae music that was blowing out of the very large and very loud rear lounge sound system and all of the lovely, lovely long dreads that were flowing from my Jamacan brothers! The border guards forgot all about us and our bus..did a quick walk up and back in the bus and said the 4 most beautiful words: "WELCOME TO CANADA!" 
"

Scaramouche

"I am 71 and have smoked, off and on, mostly on, for 50 years. My wife was stricken with Parkinson's and was struggling through a great deal of discomfort and difficulty to continue to work. My business was no longer viable. I decided to grow my own. Long story short...after 2 years I was arressted by the State Police and ultimately sentenced to 5 years in State Prison."

manofletters

"Many years ago on our first vacation to Mexico - Puerto Vallarta - I brought a small baggie of smoke with me. I felt safe since we don't look like dopers, and anyway, going in to Mexico isn't usually a problem. I kept it in the room's safe - at a nice luxury hotel. 

 
One afteoon, after we were high, we went out to the beach, and I accidentally left the safe open. When we were out, the cleaning lady came, and seeing the small safe open, noticed what was in it, which she promptly removed and delivered to the hotel concierge. When we came back a blinking message on our phone informed us that we should see the concierge ASAP. 
 
Since we were, after all, in Mexico, I assumed our lives were over - and that a Midnight Express experience awaited. What would we do? Pictures of our two toddlers were on the hotel dresser; we both had good jobs; my innocent in-laws back home were babysitting.... We were scared out of our minds. But we bit the bullet and went down to see the Man. 
 
In his private office - a mustachioed hotel security official in uniform sat behind a desk. But after speaking with us, he didn't seem that upset. What was going on? He was telling us to "use with discretion" - and handed me back my baggie! I was a dark, mustached. longish-haired Levantine kind of guy, always looking a little wary. But my wife was and is the picture of blond beautiful Scandinavian normalcy, exuding sweetness. I attributed our salvation to her, and to the pictures of our kids back in our room. We couldn't believe our good fortune, and have felt since that day, nearly 30 years ago, that he saved our lives.
"

Mahina

"1968 I was living in an apt with my friend in Arlington Va. We had just come home from work and had 2 friends over for dinner when there was a loud banging at the door and before we knew it FBI (before DEA) had busted in , slammed us against the wall, handcuffed us and off to jail. 

 
My charge was for 0 amount marijuana and my friend had a joint in her purse! We found out at the station that someone she knew was climbing up our balcony while we were at work and selling dime bags of pot. They later arrested him at his home! 
 
I sat in jail for 2 weeks too scared to call anyone , we were all still grieving my mother's death from a drunk driver 3 months earlier! I finally got out on a 50 thousand dollar bond my father posted and later that year was cleared of all charges due to lack of evidence. 
 
My friend served 6 mo in Alderson Fed Prison with 3 years' parole. Then in 1972 busted again for 0.209 grams of pot! The cop smoked it then busted 4 of us, me for distribution because I handed it to him. I went to Goochland prison in Virginia for 5 months and released with no probation. It made it very difficult to get a job without lying about that one felony question! 1984 I had my rights restored and went to work at the Pentagon! But still smoke pot always have and always will!   -- Jennifer R.S.
"

Doctoriknow

"If you ever want to experience what it might be like to be busted somewhere in the Middle East, check out the classic film Midnight Express. Scariest flick you might ever see, and based on a real story....anyway...

 
In a parking lot in Marrakech Morocco, I became aware in one millisecond that I might turn into the lead character in that movie and by the afternoon be locked up in the movie's prison from hell. I was putting my camera bag into my rented car when a burly man in a sweat drenched ill fitting suit came up to me and asked with a bass voice speaking broken English if I had bought drugs yesterday. (Which I had done) I said, no, I hadn’t. He said, “Oh yes you did. From my cousin!” I said, no, I hadn’t. Just then my partner came out of the La Mamounia hotel, approached the car, and I whispered to him that this man was insisting I’d bought drugs yesterday. He pulled the man aside and asked him what was up. I thought we were goners… 
 
My friend comes back and says “RUGS is what he’s saying…not drugs.” It was true, we did buy rugs the day before. I went back to the hotel and flushed the hash. 
 
Doctoriknow, Koh Samui, Thailand
"

MelloTheFuckOut

"On a beautiful day my sister an I wanted to get high. We had no place to smoke because my dad was home an he don't like us smoking weed. Therefore I decided to ride my bike to stop thinking about it. Riding around, nice breezy day, and I see construction workers leaving a house. So then I go inside to check out the house and I thought why not smoke here haha. 

 
I call my sis an she's on her way ! We go in one of the rooms an I lock the door,  then I start rolling the good green . Around half the blunt I softly hear some kind of radio then step by step I hear them coming closer so in a frightening hurry I open the window an let my sis leave first then I go. As we are running away out the back yard, we see 6 cop cars in the whole block ! We still ran though an got around the block surprisingly but there was still another cop car racing down the street to see the scene but he stops around us because we look really tired from running so he tells us to stop so my sister does, but I still ran down my street so by that time my sister was already in custody. While the cop got my sister in the cop car, it gave me enough time to run down my street but before I got around to the corner the cop car has speeded up to me an got out an chased me. I felt like the cop still had to take his time to get out the car so of course I ran! I made it around the corner but I had dug in my pocket an put the sack I had under a rock . After that I hear the cop telling me to stop so then I did an I got arrested. They drove me to my house an told my dad so I got in trouble but since I was 15 at the age I didn't get taken, nor  my sister. Later that day I snook out my house an went to go check under that rock and voila!  My sack is still there!! My sis smoked that whole sack haha . xD
"

plisi2253

"One day driving home from work, I specifically took the side streets so I could have a couple hits on the way home. I was driving my mini-van and didn't know I was speeding a bit and saw the red flashing lights behind me. My heart started to pound, palms were sweating and I kept saying to myself "I'm going to jail. I'm going to jail". There was no way you could not smell it. 

 
The cop comes up to my window and when I turned and looked at him, I said "OMG how have you been?" It was a guy I used to date while in high school and I hadn't seen him in years. I was so lucky. We sat there for a little while and talked about being married and having children. He never gave me a ticket for anything. I was so greatful how someone above must have been looking out for me.
"

"Years ago I lived in an upstairs condo. The condo across from me housed a very attractive brunette. We weren't really close neighbors just polite hellos and have a nice day types of interactions. I had a great job and worked a graveyard shift. I lived alone in my two bedroom place and enjoyed my privacy. The reason I enjoyed being alone was my indoor growing talents didn't need any roommates' help. Now this was in the late 80's and I had learned from a Humbolt outdoor grower first who went indoors. So let's just say my private operation was well secure and quiet. I only sold large quantities and my clientele list was very trustworthy. 

 
Now back to the neighbor. I came home early one morning and she was coming down the stairs in a uniform. A cop's uniform! Immediately I felt that sinking feeling and tried to avoid the eye contact. She was wide awake and stopped to say good morning. To which I said! I had no idea you were a cop. Her reply was I used to be a cop, but now she worked for homicide as a plain clothes detective. The uniform was for offical courtroom business as an expert witness and this was one of the few times they were required to wear their dress blues. Needless to say I knew that my costly ventilation system was working well and doing its job as she never mentioned anything about funny odors or anything funky smelling on her balcony. 
 
I was currently in the last week of a full flowering crop of Northern Lights #5, a very potent and sticky bud at that. I had converted the master bedroom in the far end of the condo as the grow space. At the time I was turning over roughly 16 pounds of the highest quality bud every 130 days. Well as fate would have it, a week later I had come home and had left my keys in the lock in the doorknob. Being a good neighbor and a cop, my brunette neighbor decided to open the door and walk in about 6 feet to place the keys on a small bar table top near the kitchen. I was sleeping in my bedroom and heard a voice asking if I was home? I knew it was her voice and I yelled I'd be right out. She must have heard me come in! Because as I walked out the bedroom door she was standing back by the bar table top and had this funny look in her face. 
 
Ohhhh Shit! My stomach dropped as she said nice garden you've got in the back bedroom. I had lived next door across the stoop from her for 3 years and never had a single problem. I never had people over to my place for that type of business just my good friends who were always welcome. And this day was the day I was going to go to jail and eventually prison for the amount that was curing in my place. In the span of 2 seconds standing there in nothing but a pair of sweatpants and now drenched in sweat I couldn't even open my mouth. Right next door a detective -- and her idiot neighbor is a pot grower. 
 
Let's put this story to rest and end the suspense. She turned out to be the absolute coolest cop and neighbor ever. She didn't bust me, in fact I found out that there were quite a few in law enforcement that would let's say partake from time to time. So she let me off with a personal warning to not get caught and that if I was she would deny even knowing me. I of course when asked for a small sample gladly told her that she could have whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted it. So for the next 3 years after I kept her in the highest grade smoke she could ask for and in truth I got out of two speeding tickets because her cop friends knew I was the one that she was getting her smoke from. 
 
I still think about her to this day and how cool she was. She had told me that homicide was the worst job for stress besides the bombsquad detail. I ended up going to her wedding and her and her husband thanked me profusely for their very well sealed and very enjoyable wedding gift. I no longer deal in the dope game. I matured and became a valuable part of society with a real job. But I wouldn't test those days or the things I still have to this day thanks to the straight shooters I dealt with who never snitched or ripped me off!
"

thedude1

"When I was about to turn 60, I went on a whitewater kayaking trip my friend who didn't smoke pot at that time. We were going to Pennsylvania to camp out and run a river or two. Of course I brought a little weeed and a wooden pipe that I had since college days. We had to pass through a small town named Mantua, Ohio. I was stoned and fell asleep. My friend got stopped for speeding just on the edge of town. 

 
Of course, the two cops decided they wanted to search the van despite my friend's insistence they had no probable cause to do so. Well, they did search and they found my weed and pipe. I told the third cop who had arrived with a drug dog that the dope was mine and that my friend had nothing to do with it. So they questioned both of us separately then brought the dog over to the van. The dog proceeded to scratch the hell out of the vehicle. Everything was taken out and strewn around the parking lot. The third cop had black boots and mirror sunglasses and demanded to know where I bought the stash, to which I replied, "in a bar in Cleveland." Then he wanted to know where I kept the pounds of weed I was dealing. I just laughed at him and kept referring to him as a "dude." Boy, he got pissed off! Then he told me his father had been in Vietnam too and he knew all about vet's drub habits. 
 
I never revealed that I was an anti war protestor. I would've been fucked had I done that! Anyhow, the pigs finally let us go after giving me a ticket for possession of weed and paraphenalia. I was friends with my county's prosecutor and his brother just happened to be the prosecutor in the county where I was busted. He dropped the charges to disorderly conduct and I paid a $300 fine. Later he told me the third cop was dirty cop who was going to be indicted on charges of excessive force for beating up a prisoner. Man, was I lucky. To this day I refuse to drive through that damn town! Todd The Dude
"

"Back in the mid 80s, I was in the USAF when the military had just started drug testing. My high school buddy and I had enlisted together. I never really was a much of a head, but my buddy was. We both decided to make one last hurrah before we got caught by a military pee test. 

 
My buddy and I were making a road trip together for a week during 4th of July and drive from Texas to our home town in Wisconsin. He was stationed in south Texas and I was in West Texas, he would come and pick me up at the base. He had a really sweet red 76 Grand Prix SJ with a white interior, it was gonna be fun. We start out for the long drive home, he says look in the tackle box in the back seat. I open it up and he has a large selection of goodies, oz of weed, acid, coke, speed, you name it....and a large amount of Mexican fireworks. He says since this is the end, we are gonna do it up and really party. We get home and get it on. We tripped and had a bottle rocket fight, shooting them at each other out on the farm. We camped out and drank like fishes, smoked up and had a great time. The last day after a week we were packing up, and heading out. We said goodbye to our families and hit the road back to Texas . 
 
About 40 miles from home my buddy fires up a joint cruising down the highway, we had the windows down and were enjoying the nice day. Just then my buddy says he thinks there is a unmarked squad behind us, just as he said this, we hear the cop come over the PA system "If I wasn't going somewhere else, you two would be in trouble". The cop then made a quick exit off the freeway. 
 
Woo Wee!!! Dodged the bullet there!!! After a week of hijinks we almost get busted going back to the base. Close call.
"

Linda Orr

"Dateline: Petersburg Alaska 1993. I spent the day helping a friend harvest and trim his crop of about 25 nice Indica plants. For the help, he gave me all the smaller trimmings, a garbage bag full. On my way out to Banana Pt. where I was living in my camper, a local police officer stopped me, I was driving too fast. My large female German Shepherd was in the truck with me. The city of Petersburg had just gotten a drug dog, and as the officer approached my truck I could see him leading the dog toward my truck. I thought, "great, now I'll spend the next year in jail for this whole garbage bag of shake". When his dog got to my open driver's side window the animal went insane barking and snarling, and obviously very intent on the garbage bag on my floor board. My dog was also going insane barking and snarling as the officer's dog set my beloved dog off on this frenzy. The officer pulled his dog away from my truck saying, "I can't seem to train this darn dog, sorry for him barking at your dog".....PHEW.....The officer told me to slow down and have a nice day. I gave my dog a big hug, she saved the day just by being there!!!!"

SkyGod

"So I had moved into this fleabag motel on the coast in Hermosa beach, CA. I had done this because I had a view of the surf that was less than 300 feet from me and the surf tended to get great for maybe a few hours at a time and I would dash out and grab a few waves and return to my one room hellhole. The landlord was scum of the earth rude but I tuned all that out just to tune into the ocean and the surf. 

 
One day returning from surfing I went to take a shower to wash off the sea salt water. Our rooms had no showers and we had to use a common area shower. After I took my shower, while drying off, I happened to see, much to my amazement a beautiful bag of weed, about half an ounce on the counter next to a mirror around shoulder height. I looked around, checked the stalls, walked outside in the hallway and nobody was there. I thought to myself, SCORE..!So I grabbed the weed and booked it to my room. It wasn't anything great but to a poor kid it was free weed! As I closed my door a guy that looked ominous just happened to walk by. Since I already had some weed, I stashed this under inside my pillow, where I was sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag. 
 
About 30 minutes later I got a knock on the door. My instincts said don't answer it so I did not as it could be a mistake. About 5 minutes later I get another knock really loud and the guys says, hey its me, Mike, I got some bud. I knew a Mike and answered the door like a fool. Don't ever answer your door. There was no peephole either. As I did three thug cops burst in and get me to the ground and handcuffed me. Little did I know these scum pigs had planted the weed there to bust a person, bust anyone who grabbed it and they wanted to make a bust with planted evidence. Pigs are scum!
 
So, they begin rifling through my stuff. They toss my sleeping bag around like rude pigs they are and grab it and look inside. The idiots flip my pillow over and look inside. They don't see the weed they are looking for. It had fallen out when they flipped the pillow over and the cops did not see it as they threw the pillow over it. I saw it in a buzzed slow motion. It was perfect timing. The cop did not see it fall out of the pillow and as he flipped it over, the weed was covered up on the pillow. The good lord himself could not have timed that better. In addition, I have another half ounce of pretty good bud of my own in my pocket. It was partially rolled bud and they search my pockets as well and the stupid cops miss that. ! So then the pigs focus on a pack of Sherman cigarettes someone had left on a totally trashed old baby grand piano that took up half the room. They grab the shermans thinking they had the mother load, since druggies used to use these to dip them in some crazy elephant tranquilizer or some crap and smoke them called Angel dust I think. They grab the Shermans, grab me and head to the police precinct thinking they had a serious bust bigger than pot, more like heroin, but they were just grabbing a stupid nearly empty box of Shermans. 
 
Sitting in the back of the police car with a bag of weed in my pocket was weird. I was debating whether to pitch the weed in the cop car but thought twice since they had just searched me. At the police station I was brought inside for about 20 minutes and out of the blue, the cops all of a sudden rather angry, remove the handcuffs and let me go realizing the Shermans were just plain old cigarettes not Angel dust. Probably an more experienced druggie Angel dust smoking cops tested them out I guess. Angrily they let me go and kind of shoved me out the door and locked the main door and I was left in this alcove between the interior of the cop shop and the outside. The cops all left. Kind of bewildered by it all, I walked outside. A moment later, the smart ass in me stopped and turned around thinking well if these buffoons are this bad lets have some fun. So I reached into my bag of weed, pulled out one of the joints and lit it up right there at the police station. It was stupid I know, but hey I had the adrenaline going. I went back inside the cop shop alcove and smoked about half that joint right in the alcove crouched below the glass as to avoid detection. The place was blue with smoke. I walked out, laughing my ass off, finished the joint as I walked back to my motel and smoke the weed the dumb ass cops had left behind. I always wondered what they may have thought when they waked into the alcove. It is always nice to get one over thug nazi cops since they do not respect human rights.
"

McGiver

"The year was 1976. Downsville Louisiana was the unlikely location of a music festival, "The Outlaw Music Festival" to be accurate. One of my friends was the grandson of the local marshal who arranged for us to keep an eye on the police van that was parked in the vacant lot next to the cemetery. This location was to be the base for the police during the event. About 6 of us were camping out on blankets and of course were passing around smokes. At about 12:00 midnight, we had a visit from some state police who were just checking out the location. There was a small cloud of smoke still hanging over us as they pulled up. The officers asked what we were doing here and my friend proudly told them his grandfather had asked us to keep an eye on the van. The officers entered the van and looked around at the equipment. One shelf had some hardhats or helmets, can't remember which. One of the officers picked one up. All of us took a deep breath because the helmet next to it had our stash under it. The officers left without incident but the next day, their helicopter found our plants located just over the fence of the base."

"The year was 2013, I had just picked up about two 8ths of different strains of weed. Drove over to my buddiy's house rolled a couple joints and took the edge off of my busy day. I packed up, and headed out in my 1987 Flat black Chevy S10. The truck looked a little ghetto and so did I...at that time I had a full on afro and pretty baggy clothing. Anyway, I am driving down Wilson St. going through Harbor Blvd in Costa Mesa, CA and to my right I see four cop cars in the parking lot.

 
 As soon as I saw them , I knew I was getting pulled over, and sure enough, one cop made the effort to pull out, make a u-turn and pull me over. Now, I knew my truck reeked of weed, as the back pack next to me had my pipe and the weed bags. Being the upstanding Samaritan that I am, with license and registration in hand, car off, music down ready to see why he pulled me over. Police Officer 1: Good evening Sir, do you know why I pulled you overr?  Me: I actually have no clue (because I am Mexican and I look suspicious?) Police Officer 1: I pulled you over because your hitch is covering your license plate, and I am unable to read your license number. Me: Interesting, I didn't know that an M is that hard to read when the hitch covers the lower quarter of the letter.....Police Officer 1: Before I proceed, do you have anything illegal, weapons contriband etc. in the vehicle that I should know about? Me: I have a razor blade from work, a lighter, and in all honesty I have a bag of weed and a pipe in that backpack over there. Police officer 1: (with a very confused look on his face) Thank you, would you mind if I performed a search on you car? Me: sure, all that i ask is that you put everything back the way it was, because it would not be fun to put evertyhing back for nothing after i told you what I have. Police officer 1: Okay, sounds faor to me. Please step out of the vehicle and take a seat on the curb. 
 
I step away from the vehicle and take a seat and he says, I have back up coming now to keep you company while I search your car. In comes officer 2, he drives up he blaring Britney Spears on his radio and pulls up fast, gets out of the car and walks up to me. Officer 2: So a little smokey smokey tonight huh? Me: Yea, you know it was a tough day at job I hate and needed to take the edge off. How about you with that Britney Spears on your radio...haha Officer 2: Yea, gotta have my tunes, you know how it is. Me: No, I don't...definitely not Britney Spears LOL! 
 
As officer 2 is bull shitting with me, officer 1 begins to go through my truck. Me: The weed and pipe are in that back pack, front pocket. Officer 1: Thank you.He pulls it out, grabs the weed and the pipe and places on the hood of my car and continues to go through my truck. At this time, I remember as he pulls up my bench seat to look behind, I completely forgot about my gas mask bong! Officer 1 pulls it out, with a little smile and a confused expressions glancing at me, than back at the mask, than back at me again and calls officer 2 over. Officer 1: Hey, check this out...hahaha Officer 2: No way! (as he grabs it from officer 1) I need to take a picture of this and send it to my wife. Officer 1: Did you make this? Me: Yea, Homedepot and army surplus store, you can make just about anything LOL. I am an innovative smoker.Officer 1: LOLOfficer 2: Can I get you to put this on so I can take a picture. Me: No, I do not like to express what I do in public, it's a personal receration. It would be awesome if you put it on I took a picture! Officer 2: No, I can't do that (as he hold it up and says) look, I am your father! (LOL) I am laughing my ass off, and so are the police officers. So know it got a little more serious as time went by and the officer put everything back, he pulls me to the side and says. Officer 1: So, you have been extremely cooperative and a highlight to our night and were going to let you off with a verbal warning. Now what would you like to do with this (bag of weed shaking in his hand). Me: Honestly, I just picked that up and to throw it away is just like throwing away money. So. I'd like to keep it. Officer 1: Well, we can't let you do that, so I would like you to pour this on the ground and grind it into the floor. Me: (regretfully) okay, i'll do that. After I grind that weed on the floor, and tiny tear drops from my eye (j/k),  officer 1 hands me little pouch that the weed and pipe were in, and I noticed my other bag of weed in there and my eyes opened wide. Officer 1: (Pushes the bag into my hands) don't worry about it, have a great night. 
 
Honesty and laughter pulled through for me that night, and I still had a lot more weed in that bag he gave back to me. Some police officers are awesome and understand that smoking weed is the least dangerous thing out there. I was very grateful to have experienced this and walked away with a funny story of luck. Thank you for reading. AB
"

MJ

"Williamson County, Texas is not the place to get stopped for ANYTHING! My best friend and I were always " taking a road". That is when we would roll a joint and head out driving down the country roads getting high. 

 
On this particular "Road" I rolled a joint that was about as short and fat as my thumb and headed out. About half-way through it I passed a DPS that turned his lights on and turned around to get me. Knowing I would for sure get arrested for half a joint, we rolled the windows down and tossed the hog leg. The officer was very cute and I did my best to flirt away the ticket, which I was successful at. After we were sure the coast was clear we drove back by to see if we could find the rest of our joint but it was too dark.
"

twotwisftr

"KATHY, Papantla Veracruz 

 
I was in Las Vegas for a Tribal Seeds show and I rolled four fatties for the  occasion, my  brother rolled six. we smoked like three or four bowls with the bong before getting there and it was at the Brooklyn Bowl and it was a new venue they had just built it and we weren't really sure how they'd be about smoking. we picked up the day before and our dealer was like oh yeah they're so chill about it I smoke joints with the security guard blah blah blah so were all hella hyped about it. we get there and we go to the front middle not too close not too far back, perfect spot won't get caught. 
 
SO by the time the first band was half way we agreed that we needed another j so we went  outside and toke it up two joints. Came back and were chillin and another lady started playing and I was taking for ever and my sister in law was like dude let's smoke a jay here so I was like yeah lets. So we did and after a couple hits my sister in law decided to kill it so she threw it on the floor and stepped on it. That very moment some security guard came up to me and was like YOU COME WITH ME and I was like wtf and he grabbed my arm and he knelt down and picked up god knows what from the floor and put it into a cup he had full of joints. 
 
So yeah he's pushing me out being hella rude about it and I'm wondering why he's taking only me out.  So I turned around and asked where are we going? He said you're going out this is private property you can't smoke anything here. So I said okay I'm going out but don't touch me, I don't know you and you're taking me somewhere against my will. He just gave me a stupid look and pushed me again so I looked back hella pissed and I see my sister in law coming.  She grabbed the dude and asked where he was taking me and he said she's going out, this is private property, you cant smoke here, and she was like where's the proof and he brought out the cup of joints and she was like those aren't hers! 
 
And we were already reaching the escalator to go down when some short bald dude with a beard came up and started trying to take my sister in law's wrist band. It was a struggle while we were going down the escalator and she was just telling him not to touch her that she payed for it and he had no right but the dude kept insisting, pulling and abusing, he almost looked possessed till I said hey man what are you doing touching a woman that way? No one's better then anyone? He just stared at his hands for a second then let go. he must of realized he was turning psycho over a wrist band and finally we both got kicked out. We went back to our car really angry and stayed there for like ten minutes laughing because we were thinking about sneaking back in so we went to the trunk of the car, found two sweaters, took off our make up, braided our hair and went back in. We made it on time to see Tribal Seeds and enjoyed it.
 
JAH RASTAFARI! This wasn't a close encounter with the law per se but it was an encounter with two security guards on a power trip, and to me there's no difference.
"

KimOnTheBathrmWall

"Smoking with stupid people can be entertaining or, like they are, stupid. So one night my friend and I had a couple of joints rolled from the quarter I had just bought the night before. We were bored so we figured we'd ride out to the airport and go to the part where the planes take off and fly over you. Well, we get there and are riding around trying to find it (apparently they changed things around) and had to drive over railroad tracks. We kept hearing a train but could never see it (there were no railroad crossings with the arms the come down, you just had to make sure to look both ways). Well, after about the 5th time we go over the tracks and the train was right there. Luckily it was stopped but it scared us enough that we gave up and went home. 

 
Fast forward an hour or so, we're smoking a joint on the porch and this guy come jogging by, looks straight at us. Well as much as he could stare, the porch is in a shadow and really dark so you can't see anybody sitting on it. Being as I was given the warning that I was with a stupid person beforehand, he proceeds to yell "he wants to smoke some weeeeeeeeeed" in this dumb voice. I told him to shut up because well, common sense of if being illegal and not trying to draw attention. Well the thing is, every time we would quit smoking there a cop would always drive by the house (it was a main busy road) but this night one never did.
 
 A little while later we hear the dog barking inside and all of a sudden someone walks up with a flashlight in our face saying "I smell marijuana, have you been smoking?" Considering we had stopped about 45 minutes before we could have said no because they were lying, but as I said before, I was with a stupid person. Apparently he discarded his roaches all over the porch. After the cop asked he shined the light down and saw roaches scattered all over the porch that he had left over the previous days. I ended up having to hand over the rest of my brand new quarter and get charged with it and paraphernalia because of the rolling papers. I most likely could have lied and said that's all we had considering after they ended up finding about 10 roaches on the porch but I didn't want to take the chance. 
 
Then they asked if we knew how they knew what we were doing, we said no. Apparently the jogger was an off duty cop that jogged right to the police station. So most likely if the stupid person I was with would have kept their mouth shut, the jogger wouldn't have known where exactly it came from since he couldn't see us, only smell. But nope, someone had a big mouth. So I was pretty mad at him at that point because I was the one getting charged and losing my stuff. Until they found a cup he had left out with the insides of a cigar in it. Apparently that was considered paraphernalia too so he got charged with that. All in all, it wasn't so bad. The cops were cool, I was only out of $125, $100 for court, $25 for the weed, one of my charges were dropped and he got punished also. Also, apparently the cops didn't find all the roaches he left out there so I took those and still had something to smoke. Although I wish I had gone home as soon as we were done like I was planning to. I never smoked with him again. Ah well. Michelle, NC
"

LuiMeraz

"lUis.  I am 20 years old and around when I was 18 I got into a encounter with the police at a park, a week before halloween. It was 5 of us but the officer let 3 of my friends go since they had their own car. He smelled the weed in my car only. The police ended up finding 2 cigarillos. Since I didn't have a drivers license he made me call my parents. In the meantime, me and my friend started talking to the officer, one was rude to my friend, I got the lucky one. I cracked a couple jokes to unweird the situation and they started budging. We ended up talking about a ROTC teacher at the school I graduated from. 

 
By the time my parents showed up the rude officer was asking me about my job, where did I work, what kind of work I do, who did I work with. I simply told him I work for my dad painting houses around the DFW (Texas). The police let us go after stepping on the recently rolled cigarrilos. He stated he just did not want me driving my car, since I had no license. I came to ask the rude officer before we left a question. "Has my dad done work for you painting?" The officer answered yes, a couple of years back. He drove off burning tire in his charger, did not even check if I left in my car (which I did.) I did get into trouble with my parents, I blamed my friends that were not there who they never saw.
"

Luna Dusk

"I am 40 yrs old, and have been in a wheelchair now for 7 yrs due to hereditary progressive polyneuropathy. Many of my nerves throughout my body are being destroyed, causing partial paralysis in certain parts of my body, including my stomach, which does not allow me to eat properly, and I am in extreme pain most days. 

 
I dabbled in pot in my younger teens, not sure what age, but did not smoke it again until I was 38 yrs old. It started then because of a costume ball benefit being thrown for me, and someone came from behind me and said, "I put a present in your book bag" (it was hanging on the back of my wheelchair) -- and darted off. That night I got home about 2:00 am and forgot all about the present the person had slipped into my bag until 2 months later when looking for something else I saw in the bottom of my bag a small square metal box wrapped in a white piece of paper with words on it. I read the note, and it said "I talked to my uncle who has MS about your condition he said to give this to you to try, and maybe it will help you." I then opened the box to see what was inside, and to my surprise it was pot, and a small instrument.
 
The first thing I thought was I was carrying this for 2 months and I could have gotten busted! Anyways, because I had two kids I held off trying it for fear of losing my kids if the authorities ever found out. Plus, to be honest, I was really skeptical that it would give me any relief, but after dealing with what my body was putting me through during a particularly bad flare up, and the doctors saying there was nothing more they could do for m,e I gave in. 
 
I was away from home at a friend's cabin camping without hubby and kids when she and a few other friends decided to go to the local bar, and I was just feeling too awful to go. While they were gone I pulled out the presents, and rolled my wheelchair under a weeping willow tree alongside the lake and began to start the experiment. Within seconds my pain was duller, I was finally really hungry for the first time in weeks, and when I ate I was able to keep both solids and liquids down. Up till this I was not able too, and had lost 23 lbs. Anyhow I was amazed at how well it worked over the 15 medications that I was already taking so of course I kept taking it until it was gone. Then I had a dilemma: how could I get more? I had no idea. 
 
Then I came up with what I thought was a brilliant idea. In the bottom of the pot bag there were seeds. So I thought I live on a farm with lots of property -- I will grow my own. I grew 4 plants all getting over 6 feet tall in the woods on our property. One day I had 4 police cars in my driveway, and policemen and women covering all exits out of my home. I opened up the door calmly said hi, and asked what they were doing there. They said they had gotten a 911 call from our home. Which was lie. How did I know this? I had the only two phones in the house with me. So that means I would have had to make the call. Anyways while talking to this police there were more walking my property, searching it. He said they needed to make sure I wasn't hiding someone. Well, you can probably see where this is going -- they found the pot. Took it, weighed it, and arrested me. 
 
I went to court and was charged with a felony, but did no time since I had a very clean record, not even a traffic ticket. I did have to have a probation officer for 2 yrs, go to drug rehab for 6 months, AA meetings for 1 yr, and personal counseling. My kids did not get removed from the home because I was smart about not letting them know, and my husband either...He was clean. Finally after 2 years my probation was over. My probation officer thought I was the easiest case he had ever had to deal with. Drug rehab and AA didn't like me because I refused to admit I was a drug addict. I now do not smoke out of fear. I suffer everyday now,and so does my family. I just hope my state will legalize it soon.
"

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