Subscriptions - Maximum Yield Cannabis USA September/October 2020 | Page 104

We will not be farmed.
We want to swim free.”
— Watermelon
OTWD Extraordinaire
baking a fool
OF MYSELF
by Watermelon
In an age where weed can be purchased with the click of a mouse, Watermelon
takes a nostalgic journey back to an era where dealing weed meant big
personalities, covert deals, disguises, and a few nights spent in the slammer.
love nostalgia. I like objects that require active
I participation like viewfinders, pogo sticks, and double
Dutch skip ropes. I love the romance of striking my old
typewriter, firing up the classic VW bus, or waiting for some
forgotten film to get developed. I have a soft spot for Old
Timey persons, places, and things.
Cannabis legalization is spreading across the globe at a
time when the world is at our fingertips. One click and weed
(or anything else) can be delivered to your door. But have
you ever wondered how Old Timey Weed Dealers (OTWD)
ever got the job done? Thirty years ago, if you wanted weed,
you’d first have to find a dealer and it wasn’t easy. You’d be
hanging around a lot of parks and cafes, talking to friends or
friend of friends, and using a lot of covert language.
Back in the day, you’d have just as many reasons to be
paranoid buying weed as you would selling it. Client and
dealer often became loyal, lifelong friends. Today you’re
just an order number.
Old Timey Weed Dealers
I am an OTWD. I’ve been in the business for more than
25 years. I worked Wreck Beach going beach blanket to
beach blanket, then later from home with a landline.
I’ve been arrested six times and had three court trials, all
resulting in acquittal. I’ve worn wigs to disguise myself
and been on the run. Sometimes, a nervous client would do
something unexpected like pass me money under the table,
broadcasting to the whole room a drug deal was going down.
I practiced discretion. For the most part I stayed out of jail.
A few sleepovers but no major time.
I get nostalgic about the tenacity it took to stay in a business
with the very real possibility of arrest every day. Today it all
seems so silly. All those sting operations, phone taps, fake
nose rings, and Fu Manchu moustaches.
My goal for this column was to interview other OTWD with
more than 20 years in the business. Without cellphones,
computers, store fronts, or e-transfers, these pioneers carved
out a path. I began to wonder if us OTWD are akin to wild
ocean fish desperately trying not to be farmed, a group of
righteous rebels being led to the obsolete slaughter. So,
I drew up a questionnaire and I asked a few OTWDs to
answer some questions.
These interviews painted a very different idea of what the
black market really is. Like my friend Dana Larsen says, “Who
is the black market? It’s probably your neighbor or a friend,
maybe it’s your auntie or an uncle.”
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