I get a call from my buddy Rishi while I’m on the train home from work. “Come over next weekend for my birthday, I invited the college squad”, he says. I go on the United Airlines app and reflexively book a ticket to LA, comforting myself in the fact that I can cancel for free in 24 hours if something doesn’t work out.
The flight ticket slips out of my mind and 36 hours pass. I guess I’m locked in.
The day of my flight rolls around, and I head to the Airport early. I’ve recently wasted my money on an American Express Platinum card, so I make it a point to show up to the Centurion Airport lounge 3 hours before my flight (they won’t let you in before that). I shamelessly fill up on their buffet and rip 4 whiskey club sodas before boarding time. I take pride in the fact that I made a $37 dent in the $800 membership fee.
I made a friend at the lounge. Dane. He’s the same age as my dad and sells water recycling systems to wineries in Napa. He tries to set me up with his daughter, who while pretty, lives in Milwaukee. Me and Dane part ways, him back to Wisconsin and me to Gate 14.
The hour long flight from SFO to LAX zips by, and before I know it I’m in an Uber to Rishi’s place in West Hollywood. I chat with my Mexican Uber driver of my recent trip to Cabo, he makes recommendations about where I should go next.
Thoroughly exhausted, I take comfort in the fact that Rishi’s comfortable guest room bed has my name written all over it.
I arrive to a quiet house, my buddy Sahil and his girlfriend Avi are asleep; the rest of our friends aren’t arriving until tomorrow night. A nice long chat with Rishi comes to an end close to 3AM. I fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I wake up the next morning to Sahil barging into the room serenading me with a Tik Tok song. I’m pissed. It’s 8am. I was planning on sleeping until noon.
Sahil and Avi lure me out of bed, promising the best matcha in LA. I reluctantly freshen up and get ready to head out. We arrive at the front yard of an office building where a small cylindrical building houses our cafe; a herd of 15 LA influencer types are waiting around for their drinks. I’m usually an iced americano kind of guy, but I strip myself of all self respect by ordering a matcha latte with whipped cream.
They were really fkn good.
We have dinner at a Mexican Steakhouse, where I forget my precious American Express credit card. I try to forgive myself as we make our way to a rooftop bar. Up on the top floor, we see a group of pretty Indian girls. “I should go talk to them”, I think to myself. We grab a round of drinks and I consult Avi to see how old she thinks they are. After a passionate arguement we settle on a range of 24-30; I decide that it doesn’t matter because I’m a huge fan of milfs. I go up to say hi, and they are not at all responsive, if only I could somehow work my Amex platinum card into this conversation, I think to myself. I recognize that I without my credit card, I am nothing but a shell of a man. I gracefully exit the conversation and look to rejoin my friends.
2 more of our friends arrive, Shaan, our boy from UCSB, and his girlfriend. The conversation is flowing, cool pictures are taken, and the plan for the next pid stop is made. The next club we go to has a $500 minimum spend. We begrudgingly call it a night.
As a last dish effort we try to see if a dispensary is open this late. A quick google search later, we discover OG Kush, a 24hr dispo, is a 6 minute drive away. The night is still young! The Uber drops us off to a deserted street in Koreatown, we try to locate a sign that says OG kush but are left blue balled. A dark alley is the only unexplored space this block has to offer. We reluctantly walk down it realizing that the chance we get mugged is non-zero. We find nothing but a parking lot. Dejected, we begin to accept our fate.
There is one last storefront that’s open, but it doesn’t seem like a dispensary. It says JD Studio and ATM. “Just go ask them if they know where OG Kush is”, Sahil suggests. We walk in and are slapped in the face with the smell of cannabis. “Found it”, we all think in unison.
Inside the store, a Korean guy is sitting in front of a dual monitor setup. He asks for ID’s and lets us into a back room. We pick something out, and turn to leave. Two more patrons enter. An indian guy wearing a traditional kurta pajama accompanied by a black gentleman. An interesting sighting at an LA dispensary at 230AM.
On the street we discuss how OG Kush is definitely illegal. We ask that one person stays sober incase of fentanyl poisoning. Back at home, we violently laugh about the guy with the Kurta Pajama, his black friend, and OG Kush as a whole. We eat chicken nuggets, stay up way too late, and laugh far too hard. It was a day i’ll remember forever.
Thank god I didn’t cancel my flight. And thank god for OG Kush.
Until next time.
-Raj