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What You Need to Know About NYC’s Mysterious Marijuana Delivery Service

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For years I’d heard whispers, about a discreet marijuana delivery service in NYC. It’s been little more than an open secret since many of us enjoyed the fictionalized version of this mysterious enterprise featured in the cannabis cult classic Half Baked (Mr. Smiley). Many people I know seem to have heard the same rumors but are unable to validate them personally.

Three factors had previously prevented me from using The Service. First, their delivery radius is limited. From what I was told they only serve Manhattan south of 110th Street. Second, they’re pricy. You pay $60 for between three and three and a half grams of the sticky flower, which is $10 to $20 above the standard retail value. For a daily smoker on a budget, this is prohibitive. And third, because it’s a closed network. You must be invited by a regular customer and I have no friends.

Suddenly, a perfect storm of circumstance brought me within the orbit of this enigmatic Service. I visited my friend at her East Village apartment, hoping to inspire a bout of drinking at an especially economical nearby happy hour. When I arrived, the air was filled with the pungent, unmistakable odor of the magical weed. My friend and her two roommates were sprawled out in various positions across their over-sized couch, staring blankly into their television, mouths agape. It was clear I would be drinking alone this evening.

As I gathered myself to leave I turned to my friend’s roommate who was near comatose in a sedated haze, and asked if she could introduce me to her connection. Through the tiny slits between her heavy eyelids she looked up at me said that she would refer me to The Service. I thanked her for her assistance and stumbled out into the night. About a half an hour later I was texted by dispatch and asked to provide my name and address. I obliged. They informed me that I was now in the database.

After several reasonably priced margaritas, I decided to call it a night. I figured now was as good a time as any to test out my new connection. However, I was informed that this service kept hours. They stopped taking orders at 11PM but would open shop the following morning 11AM. They seem to maintain the schedule of their most clichéd clients. Disappointed, I went to sleep without the comforting embrace of THC that evening.

The following day was drizzly and miserable. I decided it would be best spent enveloped in a cloud of reefer smoke. I decided to give my faceless new pals at dispatch one more try. I was texted back almost immediately telling me that a courier was en route and would text me when they were close.

About ninety agonizing minutes later I received a text letting me know that the delivery person had arrived. I sounded the buzzer and several moments later there was a knock at the door. Much to my surprise, the form at my chamber door was not some grizzled, shifty gentleman but an energetic, mildly attractive young woman. Throughout my dalliance with Mary Jane, I’ve paid for her company to the fairer sex on a handful of occasions. Although probably due to my own sexist assumptions, I find it disarming to conduct these kinds of transactions with women.

Possibly aware of the gender gap in the illegal substances business, she was almost excessively knowledgeable of her product. Upon entering the apartment and quickly closing the door behind her, she displayed for me an assortment of marijuana strains and products. There were oils, waxes, candies in a variety of flavors and of course the stinky buds themselves. She dutifully explained each product, highlighting various strengths and weaknesses.

I was taken aback. My head was spinning with the dizzying array of choices. I’d grown accustomed, in my years of consumption, to having one, maybe two, options from which to pick. After some consultation and unrushed deliberation, I settled with a sweetly aromatic sativa labeled Lavender. This choice was due partly because she advised that it was a less sleep inducing “day time bud,” but also because I’m a cheap bastard and it was one of the few options containing a full 3.5 grams of herb. Others weighed out to a paltry 3.0 to 3.2 for the same $60, because they’re “premium buds.” In case you were wondering, all oils and waxes were sold in 1 gram units while candies came in packs of 4 or 6. Every unit cost $60.

What I purchased was delicious. Potent, but not overwhelmingly so. In fact, it was instrumental in the creation of this review. The Service has its shortcomings. The restricted hours and range of delivery, the high cost and the long wait are all very unpleasant. I’ll probably continue to get my regular supply from teenage misanthropes in New Jersey. But If I’m in the city with a few dollars and hours to burn, I may treat myself to the quality, selection, professionalism and Service.

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Christopher Mazza - The Broke-Joke-Who-Enjoys-a-Midnight-Toke

Christopher Mazza - The Broke-Joke-Who-Enjoys-a-Midnight-Toke

Christopher Mazza currently resides on the couches of his friends, family and, sometimes in the beds of some very altruistic strangers, around the NYC metro area. He is motivated by publicly mocking and ridiculing himself and others. His literary heroes are Christopher Hitchens and Chelsea Handler.