Every once in a while, we get a chance to review a product we’ve never played with before, and that happened this week thanks to Pagosa Therapeutics. The friendly folks out at that shop just released house processed distillate syringes filled with 1,000 milligrams of oily goodness last week, and in true baller form, they packaged one up for us to try.
We took home the “raw” option, which I’m assuming means it’s a mix of a few strains, and right off the bat, I was intrigued. I’d been advised to try this sucker out on a dab rig, which is always intimidating, considering I have broken various parts of all of mine OTHER than this one weird rig that I haven’t figured out. I decided to just go for it and attempt to conquer the weird rig and the syringe all at once.
Well, let me tell you. Both of those items have a learning curve. The first attempt involved me trying to heat the glass with a torch that wasn’t full enough to make it happen. After a refill and a sacrilegious prayer that I’d loaded the butane correctly, it was attempt two. This time, though, I’d loaded the butane, and I’d managed to warm up the glass to what seemed to be the right temperature, but I couldn’t get the syringe to pump out its glorious amber contents onto the glass. Apparently you’re supposed to warm up the syringe in the sun if you can beforehand to make it easier to work with. I vaguely remembered that lesson in the middle of trying to juggle a flaming hot rig and a cold as hell syringe. No bueno.
And, since it was like 10 p.m. when I decided to attempt this little experiment, there was no sun to work its magic. I opted to blast the glass with a couple seconds of hot air from a blowdryer. That, my friends, worked like magic. HOWEVER, the damn rig wasn’t hot enough. So, you know what I did? I burned off the lingering contents of some leftover wax in a vape and squeezed some of the amber oil onto the coils instead. Syringes for dummies, I guess.
That, my friends, actually worked. We were in business. A couple of tiny shots of that oil onto the coils made for some seriously thick, lung-heavy vapor, and after I inhaled, I choked for what felt like five minutes straight. It tasted great, mind you – more sweet than anything – but if you’re going to play with these syringes, be warned that they are not child’s play. You will be knocked on your literal ass. All it took was those two tiny oil deposits to send me into another galaxy. I. Was. STONED.
I’m not exaggerating, either. I can’t imagine that I’ll run through the contents of this syringe very quickly, considering that those two tiny drops of oil rendered me so very high that I didn’t even remember to take notes. I have very little recollection of what happened from there. I remember choking, I remember being like, “Whoa. Holy hell, I am high.” And then I remember nothing. I woke up the next morning after a death-like sleep feelin’ like a mf’in champ, you guys.
Listen. I still don’t know how the hell to use that last standing dab rig, and I REALLY don’t know what will happen if you manage to stay awake after ingesting the contents of this syringe, but I know it made me sleep like a milk-drunk baby, and that’s just fine with me. For a writer who rarely turns their brain off, being able to curl up on my bed and be dead to the world for eight straight hours is a gift from the weed gods. And that’s good enough for me.