Gather ‘round dearies, as I tell the tale of the time I went to CannabisFest in DC on 04/22/23, dressed as Mrs. Claus.
Although, not just any Mrs. Claus. I had found these pot-leaf patches that I could iron onto the Mrs. Claus costume I already had from years past. My full name was Mrs. Mary Jane Claus.
I saw so many smiles that day. Dave and I were walking the streets of DC after getting off the subway, glad that we hadn’t driven with the traffic so packed.
Just about every car we passed, though, lit up with smiles as I passed by. Several asked me to stop and pose for a picture… which I, of course, obliged. You don’t dress up as Mrs. Claus unless you’re ready to take on that duty.
And it was like I was Mrs. Claus! I was having a ball. They would exclaim, “Mrs. Claus! You made it!” “Mrs. Claus! It’s so good to see you!” It was just so sweet… and I don’t think it’s just because I was already as high as the North Pole.
So, we were walking… and walking… and walking. We kept following signs promising we were going the right way. I’m pretty sure we circled that entire stadium at least once.
We made it to this underpass (or is it overpass) or tunnel or whatever it was. My memory is a bit hazy, for some reason. I do remember there was a gate and nobody was getting through.
We were hanging out with the other festival goers who were chill but confused. Finally, some workers came in on golf carts, trying to drive their way through the crowd that had gathered.
At one point, they apparently ran over someone’s foot because we heard someone shouting, “You ran over my foot!” You could tell he was angry, about it, but in that relaxed way potheads get mad.
Eventually they started checking tickets and letting people through. We slowly moved through with the crowd.
At one point I said to Dave, “It’s times like this I hate being short most.” This tall, young, obviously cool-dude nearby look over at me and laugh, which made my day right there.
We finally get past the first checkpoint. Now we have arrived at the actual lines.
They had different levels of tickets: VIP, early-entry/express, and commoners. We had bought the express early-entry tickets, so we go wait in the appropriate giant line… which, seemed to be about the same length as the lines the commoners were in. (I’m calling them that because I can’t remember what they were actually called.)
Then everyone seems to be going in at the same time… but, whatever…
The line moves pretty well and everyone thought it was funny as I stood spread eagle while the metal detector wand was waved around me… you know, dressed as I was.
We get stopped almost immediately by a couple of hip, young guys filming something for an interview. We talk for a bit and then move on…
At this point, I am more thirsty than I’ve ever been in my entire life. They had advertised free water stations, but the only places I could find were selling booze.
Dave bought an overpriced plastic water bottle and then went up to another place where we thought we could fill the bottle… but they were just selling Liquid Death (canned water). We buy some because, at this point, I need water and I don’t care what I must do to get it!
Now brought back from the brink of turning to dust, we find our express-level VIP but not VIP tent. However, we are not allowed in because we are wearing the wrong color wristbands.
We ended up having to go back to the front gates. On the way, another guy tried to stop me for an interview of some kind, but Dave continues on and I have to say, “Any other time, but we have a wristband situation!’ He looked dejected… if I had seen him after we got the wristbands straightened out I would have went over to him, but he disappeared. Sorry guy!
A short chain of “you need to talk to so-and-so over there… then when you get there, so-and-so says you need to talk to yonder over there” later and we get our appropriately colored wristbands. Now we can go back to the tent!
Once inside, I knew immediately this was not going to be like last year. Last year, they took care of you! They were so friendly and welcoming, making sure you had plenty of snacks, and whatever you needed. They handed out cool merch, like sunglasses and stuff, not just stupid beer koozies. Stupid alcohol… (don’t tell alcohol I said that… I do still like the occasional margarita).
This tent, though, we were on our own. Oh, you want something to drink? That’ll be $9 for a CAN OF WATER.
We find a table with some cool-looking dudes sitting there. One of them was wearing a shirt with a humorous expression containing the word “boobies.” Neither of us can remember what the shirt actually said… just that it said something about boobies. Dave said something like, “We have a special connection to boobies,” and the guy in the shirt said, “Ha, so do I!”
We end up talking to one of the other guys and somehow ended up telling the whole story about our old website. I think he started filming with his phone at one point.
When our story sort of petered out, the other guys had already wandered away, and Dave was ready to go exploring.. and I was ready to continue sitting there.
Now, Dave enjoys going on quests for me. He did this last year, too, when I was too hot and tired to move from my chair in the tent.
The first thing he comes back with is a sweet potato pie. He apparently hit it off with the lady selling them and that was the only reason he bought the pie. Not because I was dressed as Mrs. Claus.
I was like a freshly baked pie myself by this time, but I was still a little embarrased, with how on the nose it was. Of course Mrs. Claus would be eating (what looks like) a pumpkin pie.
I sit there for a while, just chilling, vaping, while Dave brings back various delights.
I finally decide I’ve had enough of the wig I was wearing and take it off. The apron, too. The apron was covering the part where my boobs were barely contained by the black ribbon lacing up the front. I figured as the day went on, Mrs. Claus could let loose.
Before I could even get a selfie, I noticed that the weather seemed to be turning. It had been a bright, beautiful warm April day. They had called for rain, so it was not surprising when some dark clouds started to roll in, but I figured it was just some showers. I was just glad I’d kept my seat in the tent.
Then the wind picked up. Before long, a voice came over the loudspeakers telling us that we have to evacuate, due to an incoming storm.
I had no idea where Dave was, so I texted him, but he doesn’t answer.
I gathered up my things as best as my zonked ass could do, but that’s probably when I lost my vape… and, of course, it was the most expensive battery with a fresh cartridge in it, too (I can’t remember if it was a half a gram or a full one… it’s probably best I not think about it).
I kind of waited outside the tent, still torn about whether to follow the crowd out or wait for Dave. They kept announcing that we needed to evacuate immediately. But where is Dave? The wind is whipping up more and more and everyone is hurrying out.
I have a hard enough time with decisions when I’m not blasted.
Finally, though, he texts back “I’m here.” I turn around and there he is, looking as calm as a cucumber as the wind whips around him. He said he didn’t hear the first announcement wherever he was, but he eventually caught on.
They included in the announcements that they would let people back in after the storm passes, but we decided we were done with this particular adventure.
We started walking out of the grounds and before we even make it to that underpass that served as the first gate (still hope that guy’s foot is OK), it started to rain.
I was just following Dave and I’m not exactly sure how we got there (it was not the way we came), but I suddenly found that we were walking across a big, beautiful soccer field. It was a bit surreal.
We then came to another tunnel where everyone was kind of gathering inside to get out of the rain which was coming down harder and harder, while lightning and thunder cracked threateningly close by.
We stayed just long enough to get our ponchos on. I had a cute green plaid one that totally worked with my costume. Even if it was going to rain, Mrs. Claus was going to be fashionable.
Dave had a poncho, too.
By the time we made it back to the escalators leading down to the subway, anything not covered by the poncho was soaking wet. This included my hair because I finally gave up fighting the wind pulling the hood off of my head.
I believe this will be Mrs. Claus’ last CannabisFest. The first had such good vibes, I said sure, I wouldn’t mind going again when Santa, I mean Dave asked. I guess they had different people running it this year, though, because the difference was like a sunny day and stormy one.
In addition to the vape, I also lost the cool earrings that were like little plastic bags of weed. I’m not reading anything into that.
I have found it comforting in times like this to say to myself, “Well, at least you have a story to tell!”
