At 2mg of THC and 0.2mg of CBD per hit, I felt pretty fucking good after five solid hits. I hit it a few more times, and a warm feeling of calm washed over my tense little frame. I felt at peace with the crashing sea, with the fog slowly lifting to reveal another sunny day. I thought, I’m ready.

The loosely related relative had dropped dead out of nowhere, so the mood was low. He was fifty-something and judging from the affair, super rich. Aside from the intense grief I could not partake in, there were hors d'oeuvres and a mansion. There were surfboards and blonde people. There were golf carts. There was a Hawaiian catering truck which, thank god, served mai tais.

During the paddle out surfboard ceremony at Pointe Dume, I snuck away to take pictures of a German Shepard and a Shih Tzu in a patch of bougainvillea down the street. I continued to hit the Dosist, which, along with the cute dogs, kept me in a surprisingly happy mood. There’s a floaty quality to its high, a certain buoyancy that makes everything sparkle. It feels like you’re a bowling ball going down a lane with bumpers on it. While you can see the potential to fall in a proverbial gutter by becoming too stoned or letting the general weirdness of most situations puncture your psyche, you simply continue to cruise down the lane of life with a smile of your face. After consuming a number of mai tais at a speed that truly shocked Brian’s mother, we left and headed north to a little valley just south of Santa Barbara.

“A friend’s mom I hadn’t seen in years shimmied up to me, sloshing her drink, and asked, “Is that one of those weed pen things?” I passed it to her.”

The wedding took place at a semi-nice golf course in downtown Ojai where cinematic views of the mountains made up for exceedingly meh amenities. The groom hailed from a long line of drinkers, so the wedding was a rager. We arrived before dusk when most of the party was already drunk. My main concern at this point in the day was that the endless cascade of Coors Light flowing through my body mixed with the Dosist high would make me too tired, or worse, blacked out.

From the sunset ring ceremony on the green to the speeches and beyond, the Dosist kept me happy, bright, and balanced throughout the night. I didn’t even have to do coke in the bathroom like some of the other wedding attendees. The reception peaked beneath an enchanted oak tree on a hill. Lanterns hung like constellations in its branches, which overlooked a large tiled wood dance floor below.

In the middle of a dance off with a kid I’d once slapped in the face, I realized none of this would have been possible on klonopin, xanax, or any other pill necessary to feel comfortable throughout such an uncomfortable day. I thought about how wonderful weed is, and how Dosist’s angle of medicinal branding welcomes first-time users. From its precisely dosed hits to the vibration that ends the hit for you, this approach will open a beautiful horizon to many who are interested but intimidated by cannabis. As Nelly’s “Hot in Here” blasted through squeals in the warm summer air, a friend’s mom I hadn’t seen in years shimmied up to me, sloshing her drink, and asked, “Is that one of those weed pen things?” I passed it to her.