Stoners and experimenters from around the country lined up outside legal marijuana dispensaries Friday, Saturday and Sunday to grab some good-good and make their way to one of Denver’s 4/20 celebrations in the state capital. This year marked the first fully legal recreational use holiday in the state and the country.
Participants looking to get their legal high and spectators looking for a good laugh had the opportunity to check out the rally at Civic Center Park, the High Times Cannabis Cup and the sold out Snoop Dog and Wiz Khalifa concert at Red Rocks. The Civic Center Park rally housed two music stages with performances from the likes of Zion I, B.o.B. and The Expendables, along with lines of food trucks and various vendors. The pot magazine High Times hosted the Cannabis Cup, which, for a price, showcased marijuana samples from local dispensaries as well as musical performances by Mac Miller and Slightly Stoopid. It also featured a contest to see who produced the highest quality marijuana.
I made the 145-mile drive to Denver to witness this historic event and found exactly what I expected: a bunch of people standing around smoking pot and either looking mildly entertained or completely lost. I could not afford a ticket to see Wiz and Snoop, nor could I front the cash to get into the sold out Cannabis Cup, so I ended up with the stoners at Civic Center Park watching musical performances until the smoke lifted.
Last year’s rally was strikingly different, not only because of the legality of marijuana but also due to an outbreak of violence during 2013’s celebrations.
Last year left four in the hospital after a still unidentified male fired off gunshots into the stoned masses.
While no shootings occurred this time around, the police still made their presence felt. Denver Police Department issued 130 citations/arrests in the Civic Center Park area over the weekend. Of those citations, 92 were handed out for public marijuana use, for which a ticket runs $150. Most of the tickets were in state, but 20 out-of-state-citizens had their high hopes of cop-free cannabis consumption crushed.
I walked up to the front gates of the rally surrounded by grass smokers of all makes and models. Those sporting pot leaf hats and shirts stood in contrast to the municipal, state and federal police agents covered in bullet proof vests and fully-loaded utility harnesses. While the police presence was known and felt, it was without hostile incident.
As I neared the front of the only rally entry point with my camera in one hand and the rest of my pockets’ contents in the other, a girl fainted at the gates, causing police and paramedics to swarm the entry point and hold up anyone else from entering the park. A large police officer made a wedge through the half-conscious crowd and wheeled the now-conscious fainter to the ambulance. All in all, 18 people went to the hospital that day: four to detox and 30 called for medical assistance.
As the clock struck 20, I was still stuck in the crowd of eager attendants and watched as a fog of second-hand smoke rose from every direction. I could hardly see the main stage in the distance when I finally made it through the gates.
Wandering through the tens of thousands of people, I saw people passing joints and blunts. Meandering through the haze revealed the occasional hooper, poi spinner, glass seller and wrap vendor. For the most part, people stood around looking into the distance with casual complacency. Some were passed out on the lawn.
I caught B.o.B.’s performance and eventually made my way to the art museum, which had been turned into a two-story bar for the occasion. I was surprised to find the usually over-crowded location for an event of this magnitude nearly deserted. People, it seemed here at least, were not at the rally to drink and party – they were there to smoke copious amounts of legal marijuana.
The event shut down earlier than any other festival might have been expected to; around 6 p.m. Before the timely emptying of the park, Miguel Lopez, a key organizer for the event, took to the stage to address and thank the crowd. Mostly though, he took the stage to preach and push a political agenda. He started by calling the unsupportive Gov. Hickenlooper an Uncle Tom, which led to an introduction of the only mayor in the state to vote yes on Amendment 64, Michael Dunafon.
Dunafon took the stage yelling, “Hail 4/20,” received by muffled cheers. He made his positions on marijuana clear when he said hemp is “one of the greatest plants God ever put on this Earth.”
Dunafon continued to try and rally support for his gubernatorial race, but everyone continued what they were already doing: smoking weed and standing around.
Leaving the scene prior to the mass departure, I still hit the slow-moving traffic jam. Some out-of-state attendees had expressed concern for checkpoints as we neared the state border, but we saw no flashing lights as we crossed into Wyoming.
The event was historic as the first 100 percent legal display of recreational drug use, but was still nothing more than the regular 4/20. People stood around really high and said pretty much the same things over and over: “there’s so many hot girls,” “whoa,” and “dude, I’m so high.”
