Potheads and Sneakerheads Actually Have a Lot in Common

Potheads and sneakerheads have more in common than they think.

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Weed and kicks. Kicks and weed. They've been a part of my life since I've been able to work for a living. I fell in love with weed at the mall. I was 15 or 16 at the time. A couple of friends and I smoked some chocolate in the parking lot and the rest is history. I had heard horror stories of people not getting high their first time. I couldn't even imagine. 

I fell for her when my legs felt like Twizzlers as I walked to Against All Odds to exchange a Mecca tee for a bigger size. It was a shirt I had purchased to match these Air Max Deluxes, I think. That day I found my latest hobby, getting high. Basketball and sneakers were already a big part of my life. Those two things went hand-in-hand during the '90s. However, up until I was able to work, I would get two pairs of sneakers a year if I was lucky: one pair for gym class and the other for everyday use.



Contrary to popular belief, functioning weedheads aren't unicorns.


Now that I have a full-time gig and credit, I buy sneakers that I couldn't get as a kid. I act like a crack fiend sometimes, legit getting upset if I miss a restock when the shit is in my fucking cart already. So what does a fiend do? I pay more than retail for certain sneakers to get that high. But you know what? I love the sport. I wear my sneakers just like I smoke my weed.

When my "guy" got his hands on Girl Scout Cookie, I didn't leave it in my mason jar to look at it, I ran through a quarter in less than a week. I can't say no to quality strains just like I can't say no to a Nike Air Flare retro. When my plug hits me about having the latest Nike SB Highs or the latest Jordan Retro for $50 above retail and free shipping, I gotsta have it.

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I fancy myself equal parts weed connoisseur and sneakerhead. I might throw on my Cheech and Chong Dunks later tonight while I watch Up In Smoke for the billionth time while I roll a fat Raw of some Sour Tsunami I just got my hands on.

I could probably smoke a whole joint with hash, wax, and Labrador in it and still walk away. Sike, I'd wake up on my couch at three in the morning with munchies like a real G's supposed to. Another thing weed and sneakerheads have in common? We stay broke. Smoking weed and loving sneakers are expensive habits. I'm a responsible smoker, though. I make sure the bills are paid before I splurge on some bomb ass Bubba Kush or  a pair of the latest Jordan retros (unless I have space on my credit cards.)

Contrary to popular belief, functioning weedheads aren't unicorns.

We are real. We are here. We are high.

Today is our day. So go watch Friday at a theater and make sure to hotbox in the parking lot. I'll be playing the crib watching playoff hockey and playoff basketball with my Raw tray easily accessible. I'm older now and can't hang like I used to. Sometimes I'll smoke some shit that's so fire, my heart starts racing and I get mad paranoid about life. I'm gonna try my best to turn back the clock tonight, though. I'm gonna smoke 'til I fall asleep just like I eat 'til I KO on Thanksgiving.

Shit, I might even try to cop the white and silver Vs while I toke up since we're on the subject. Remember kids, wear your favorite sneakers while you smoke your favorite strain. Life doesn't get better than that. Enjoy the little things.

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Angel Diaz is a staff writer for Complex. You can follow him on Twitter here.