Vapes of Wrath is permanently closed, according to Yelp. It may have been replaced by BUZZ “R” US, another shop on the street where I work, but my mission to find a vape is momentarily stifled, putting my mission to have sex like Leonardo DiCaprio allegedly does in jeopardy.
According to tabloid lore, the rumored Leo method allegedly involves wearing noise-canceling headphones while hitting a vape. A blonde model is likely present. And it’s likely aboard a yacht. Now, I wasn’t going to be able to fuck a model—I know my limits—and I don’t know anyone with an eco-friendly super yacht. But the headphones and vaping business… that I could swing.
Except, it turns out, my understanding of what vaping entails is shaky, at best. (Big congrats to my middle school; D.A.R.E. worked!) I’ve also never used noise-cancelling headphones. (My editor assures me normal headphones will do; I am skeptical but also not rich enough to buy noise-cancelling headphones just to fuck my boyfriend as kind of a joke for an assignment.) The only thing I’ve been assigned to do that I have done before is… have sex.
Because I did not yet know anything about vapes or their attendant terminology, and a cursory Google search did not clarify much for me, I asked my boyfriend, who’s smoked both weed and cigarettes before, “You can vape weed right?”
To which he confusedly replied “…yes?”
“I need to vape weed for a story.” I then explained the assignment. “Sophia,” he said, “when people say vaping, they usually mean nicotine.”
I wasn’t about to lose my nicotine virginity for journalism, so we headed to the one dispensary in town for a weed vape—not the tank-like variety Leo is frequently seen with in public.
I approach the counter. “One vape of sativa please,” I ask a woman with green hair.
She starts clinically pointing out strains. Shit.
I begin to ask: “This is going to be a dumb question, but—” and then my boyfriend (not a model), who I brought for backup, laughs; she does not “—what’s the difference between strains?”
I love hot people. They so rarely make you feel dumb, even when you are asking something incredibly dumb. This is how Leo feels, I bet. Everything is easy with hot people—they have an earnestness about them that is often incidentally generous. She starts in on what each flavor tastes like. The lemon one? Sweet and citrusy. The mimosa one? Also sweet and citrusy. The one with candy in the title? Actually, she has no idea, but this other girl who works there says it’s her favorite. The other ones “taste more like weed.” Lemon it is!
So we head home with some vaguely citrus-y weed. The vape is charged. Sex is planned. I’m off work and I’m going to get high. To hell with Leo; this is about me now.
We head to the bedroom and hit our first roadblock: I can’t get my wireless headphones to work. I’m highly skeptical about the acrobatics involved with bringing a cord into the equation, thereby tethering myself to my phone. I’ve had to stop sex to get my hair uncaught from the headboard, and now I’m supposed to add in a four foot cord and electronics? My boyfriend is laughing, even though he’s trying to keep the vibe sexy.
So I lie on my back, vaping in bed while my boyfriend fetches me his big, over-the-ear, not at all cordless headphones. Imagine a gamer headset with no microphone. Had my great Uncle Bob worn these headphones during World War II, he wouldn’t have lost his hearing.