When I was in my early twenties, I got a job trimming weed up in Northern California.

I had just broken up with my long — term girlfriend and needed to get away from Sacramento for a while. I had always been an athlete and I wasn’t a huge pot smoker myself, but my brother’s friend offered me the job knowing I wanted to get out of town and away from my ex. Trimming paid well and it was mindless. We all worked and lived on the farm, and we’d spend all day shacked up with more bud than you could imagine, blasting classic rock as we carefully prepared the harvested weed.

I liked everyone I trimmed with, but I was definitely the odd man out. There were six of us: four guys, two girls. Two of the guys were best friends. One of the girls came there with her boyfriend and the two of them were... Read More