I fucking hate April 20th. I used to not give a shit. The fucking dope smokers could go blaze a spliff wherever they wanted, so long as it didn't affect me. They have the right to peacefully protest, I have the right to not have my lungs polluted.
But now I work at the Legislature. Ground zero for all the basement dwelling hippies celebrating 4/20 because they got an urban legend fucking wrong. The groundskeepers work hard to keep the Leg grounds pristine. The dope smokers work hard to fuck it up. Fucking messiest group of the year.
Right now, it's perfect. Kempt lawns, clean sidewalks. Rabbits and coyotes doing their dance, birds in the trees singing. After work, I have to run the gauntlet back to my truck hoping I don't get a face full of weed that will affect my driving, or lead to uncontrollable munchies later.
And tomorrow morning, we'll see the lawns and trees fouled with underwear, burger wrappers in the fountains and carcasses of half eaten pizzas being ravaged by the ravens. And the poor rabbits who ate the wrong kind of grass trying to avoid the coyotes.
And the poor groundskeepers who have to go over every inch to make sure no one left a half smoked blunt where a kid or an animal could get it.
I nominate April 21st as fucking official random drug testing day!