After I finished today’s lecture for my drug-policy class, a couple of students came up. One wanted to know what I’d written about “designer drugs,” of which the current examples are K2 and Spice as cannabis substitutes and “bath salts” as substitutes for MDMA. I said I hadn’t written anything and didn’t know much, but that both classes of product seem more dangerous than the things they’re substitutes for, and probably ought to be banned.
The student then asked about Salvia, and I said that, as far as I can tell, it’s so unpleasant that not many people use it, so it’s unlikely to be much of a problem whether it’s legal or not. His next question was about mushrooms, and I said that I thought that they had substantial potential benefits in controlled use, and that – along with peyote and LSD – they ought to be legally available to well-prepared adults under appropriate supervision. The student said “thanks” and walked away. Not an especially unusual post-lecture dialogue, though pretty remote from today’s topic, which was source and transit country enforcement.
The student behind him needed me to sign a piece of paper for some bureaucratic reason. As he handed it to me, he said, as if following up on the previous conversation, “Do you know where I could get some LSD?” I looked to see if he was pulling my leg, but he seemed quite in earnest. So I said “I can’t believe you just asked me that.” He then said, “No, seriously. Do you know where I could get some LSD?” I repeated, “I can’t believe you just asked me that!” signed his form, and turned my back on him. If he was aware of any strangeness about asking a total stranger, more or less in public, to commit a felony, he gave no hint of such awareness, let alone any embarrassment.
I’m starting to understand the Red Queen’s spiritual discipline. If you believe six impossible things before breakfast, nothing stranger will happen to you that day.