Full moon fever

</p> <p>Cannabis Canada, spring96 – Full Moon Fever</p> <p>

Full Moon Fever

Full Moon Fever

“Hey folks, how’s it going?” was my cheery welcome as a cop disguised as a person walked through the front door of Hemp BC’s wholesale office. My friendly grin quickly dissolved when I saw the pack of yellow jacketed foot soldiers bringing up the rear. “My name is sergeant blah blah, and I’ve got a search warrant for these premises.” I spun on the spot, and went to relay the message to Marc. And so the games began.

The cops covered the usual ground of ID checks and personal searches, while corralling us all into one spot. So that we didn’t revolt, I suppose. I voiced concern about Jay and Jeremy upon learning that they were being subjected to simultaneous harassment at the retail store, and thereby drew attention upon myself. They quickly learned that I am the store manager and told me not to worry, since Marc and I were being arrested we would soon see them downtown. How reassuring. I thought bitterly of a criminal record looming dangerously close, and fleeting images of India and other exotic spots flashed through my brain.

Soon I found myself drawn into the corner with the Sergeant, having some soft, almost intimate conversation. He was asking me a few questions about the layout, and about the organization itself. I felt as if I was talking to an interested customer, rather then an investigating officer. As our little chat came to an end, I drew myself up close to him and took a long piercing look into his eyes. “This is a waste of both your time and mine” I said, testing the liberties I seemed to have earned. There was a long pause, with no eyes moving, “I know,” he replied quietly. He then turned and began barking orders, becoming an entirely different being then the one I had been speaking with.

As I waited to get cuffed and taken away, Rob, Deb and I had some passionate conversation about the unjustness of prohibition. Several pairs of cop ears were eagerly listening, getting what I hoped was an educating earful.

I put on my vest and got ready to head out, but soon found myself in another soundless staring match. My elevator escort was standing about an arms length away, and in the same spot we both wore pins stating our claim. Hers was a police pin, mine was a ganja leaf. In the elevator on the way downstairs our eyes never broke contact for a second. “These clothes do come off at the end of the day, you know” she said, telling me a wealth of information.

Soon I was being loaded into the solo cell of the paddywagon, waving and blowing kisses to my accomplices on the sidewalk. Jay and Jeremy were cuffed in the back and Marc, also cuffed, was tossed into the mix. Wonder why they didn’t cuff me? I suppose looks can be deceiving.

Checking into my accommodations for the evening became an the amusing scene. I answered all the basic questions about height, weight, eye colour etc. Then I was asked “Do you take any medication?”


“For what?”

“Migraines and PMS.”

“Name of medication?”

“Marijuana of course.”

This induced a few giggles from the petty thieves waiting behind me to get booked. The grunt cop downloading my information rolled his eyes at me.

I was catching a lot of cops eyes, registering their surprise at seeing a vibrant, healthy young, woman mixing with the junkies and the petty thieves, the regular Main and Hastings cop shop crowd.

My room was a huge holding cell, space for fifteen to sleep, and a long eating table. The door clicked shut, and the weight of silence and solitude started settling softly on my shoulders.

There was no way I could relax enough to sleep. Meditation, yoga, and singing all the cheesy 80’s tunes I could remember only entertained me for so long. Soon I was tearing around the place, the bunkbeds becoming my jungle gym. Deep breaths became a full forced howl, my head thrown back, the hair on the back of my neck standing in salute to the full moon. My voice filled the empty space, piercing into the oppressive walls. I howled on, finally discovering a release for my anger at being caged. The moon was drawing out my howl longer and louder. I heard Ruthless Ruth, my frighteningly large caretaker, open the door and scream “shutup!” but I was not responding to human command at all. I let it pour until Ruth was about to shake my shoulders, then I sprung up and leapt to my perch in the corner. I gave that women a look that could have moved mountains, but she just shook her head and left. She’s seen much crazier then me.

After dinner (they actually brought me an animal-free meal) I was moved from the holding cell into a matchbox cage. The woman in the cell across from me stirred once in a while, but other then that it was hours upon hours of heavy silence, interrupted with sirens and yelling voices.

Sleep would not allow me to escape into warm dreams, wakefulness held me hostage in dark reality. Sitting cross-legged on the top bunk, leaning against the wall, the tears began to crawl slowly down my cheeks. “Fuck this!” I spat out, shaking the tears from my face. “They can’t break me, they can’t even put a crack in my strength.”

Thinking of all the people that I am working with calmed my quivering guts somewhat. I was not a criminal, and that’s why I was there. For all those other people that are unjustly locked away in these stinky, dark cold cages. My resolve took over just as my caretaker came to take me for printing.

I cruised through those hallways and elevators with my head held high, my shoulders back, alert and ready.

A mischievous smirk played across my lips as I realized one of the cops was looking at my long curls and checking out my ass. He finally looked up and his eyes were met with a steely pair of icicles, ready to hurl fireballs. My instincts whispered to pounce for the jugular, but I decided to let the blue suit live.

I was lead into the room that would end my existance as an anonymous Canadian. They took my picture and pawprints. Now I have an ID number. I am filed.

I asked steady stream of questions about the procedure of being in jail, and this particular little piggy responded, with resourceful and respectful answers.

Back in my cage I settled down for a long lonely night. At this point I thought I was going to be trapped long into the next day. Thinking about all of the people that are walking strongly next to me in this final stand for freedom spread a comforting warmth through my body. A few more long hours passed slowly by, and finally the hallway door clicked open. The fluorescent light bounced blindingly as the keys floated toward my lock. An image of a ganja leaf in the mouth of a swooping dove flashed across my vision as I heard the words “Hilary, you are being released.”

Once reunited, Jeremy, Jay, Marc and I hustled along like a gang of kids, all in various states of shock. “Look” whispered Jeremy. There was a brilliant ring of colour dancing around the moon. I raised my head and howled endlessly, with no one to stop me, tasting a breath of freedom.

Freedom? Canadians are coming very close to losing a lot of their freedoms, and of course, no one but Hemp BC is telling you about it. Bill C 7 is a brutal piece of legislature, being quickly rammed through into law with as little attention as possible. It turns Canadian officers into pawns for Uncle Sam’s war on drugs.

Bill C-7 goes before the senate just before our first court date. We will not plea bargain, we will take it all the way, and set a positive precedent for seeds in this country.

Anne Drennon, public relations puppet for the Vancouver cops, says that Vancouver’s public is not prepared to accept the sale of marijuana seeds. I can prove differently. We have sold hundreds of thousands of seeds to people that want the ability to grow a magical herb given to them by the earth. Vancouver’s public is not prepared to an accept overgrown, uneducated, police department.

I am prepared to slam this one to the wall myself, being threatened with life imprisonment. This seed case is a new one for the canadian courts. A window of light for us to jump through, facing the dark threat of Bill c7.

The time is now. Lift your faces my friends, the dawn of freedom is getting close. Reach for it! Help hundreds of thousands of Canadians to overgrow the government!

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