Connect with us

Community

The Hill, The Gun, and The Laced Blunt

Published

on

Written by OG Strain for The Plug’s Pages Magazine

There are stories from Hamilton Hill… and then there are stories from Hamilton Hill.
If you’re from Schenectady, you know the difference immediately.

This one sits squarely in the “I can’t believe we survived that” category.

Chasing Five-Dollar Bags on “The Hill”

Me and my boy Geoff were maybe sixteen — two suburban kids from North Glenville/Burnt Hills who had no business driving around Hamilton Hill at night chasing five-dollar bags of weed. We weren’t gangsters. We didn’t carry illegal pistols. We were hunters — rifles and shotguns, sure — but not street life. Not this.

But that night… that world pulled us right in.

We’re sitting at a light on Lincoln Street when two dudes start arguing outside a house. One flashes a tiny pistol. The other laughs:

“Pull that lil’ peashooter out — what you gonna do with that thing?”

Before we even react, the one with the gun walks straight to our van, opens the door, gets in, and says:

“Drive.”

So we did.

“Yo, pull up — that’s my boy.”

We roll around the corner and another dude jumps in. No hesitation, no explanation.

Just:
“We need you to drive us to Albany.”

We didn’t know if they were asking or telling. The gun made that clear.

Now picture this:
Two white middle-class sixteen-year-olds with awkward teen mustaches suddenly chauffeuring two armed strangers through Hamilton Hill in a minivan. Fear hit us harder than anything we’d smoked in our lives.

“Y’all cops?”

Dealers always ask customers if they’re cops when they meet someone new — that’s just how the street works. Tonight it hit different because the question came from someone holding a pistol pointed loosely in our direction.

They checked a little bag between the seats.

My buddy Geoff — comedian under pressure — blurts out:

“Oh that bag? That’s all our cop stuff.”

Horrible timing.
Legendary delivery.

The guy snatched the bag and tore through it. Empty. He relaxed — just slightly — but still didn’t fully believe us.

Then he said:

“We gonna find out if y’all cops.”

And without thinking, I stupidly nodded yes.

The Test

He cracks open a blunt wrap and starts breaking down weed. I think, Cool. I’ll smoke a blunt to prove I’m not a cop.

Then he says the words that froze my spine:

“We ’bout to smoke a laced blunt. You ever smoke dust? You ever smoke that angel?”

Whatever he sprinkled in, it wasn’t weed.
Crack, angel dust, something chemical — the smell was unmistakable. They sparked it and passed it.

I hit it. Immediately felt that cold, cocaine-burning taste. My whole body went loose and wavy. Geoff stayed locked in survival mode. I drifted into some bizarre half-calm while the gun never left our general direction.

Albany — The Aimless Mission

Hours later, yes — we actually were in Albany.
Not for a drop-off. Not for a plan.
Just circling blocks with no destination, drinking 40s, smoking laced blunts, and living inside a nightmare wearing a party mask.

That’s when they spotted the girl walking.

“Yo yo yo! That’s my girl! That’s my mama! Jump in!”

She gets in the van, looks around, sees me and Geoff in the front, and immediately freaks:

“You want me to do that with TWO WHITE KIDS sitting right there? Are you crazy?!”

One of the dudes snaps back:

“These are my n**s! They been rollin’ with us all night!”

Then he opens his palm — full of what looked like crack — and tells her she just lost out.

She went wide-eyed.
Then he literally kicked her out the van, foot to her backside, and slammed the door.

Gun comes back up.
“Drive.”

“Watch these dudes. Don’t let ’em leave.”

Every time they ran into a corner store for more 40s and blunts, one stayed behind… with the gun.

That told us everything:
We weren’t their friends.
We weren’t their crew.
We were hostages that could drive.

And through all of this, the thing me and Geoff feared most wasn’t them —
It was getting pulled over.

We were terrified of being caught with felony narcotics, illegal guns, and two strangers telling the cops we were with them.

That fear alone kept us glued to our seats.

The Drop-Off

Near dawn, they went into a store again. This was our moment. We could’ve driven off. We could’ve escaped.

But for some dumb, teenage, “don’t make it worse” instinct…
we waited.

They came out shocked.

“Yo… y’all cool. Most people woulda dipped.”

And just like that, it was over.

They had us drop them around the block, got out, and disappeared into the early morning air.

I exhaled for the first time all night.
Geoff sat silent — traumatized.

We looked back and saw all the tobacco they dumped out rolling those blunts, so we went straight to the 24-hour car wash and vacuumed that van like our lives depended on it.

Another Night on The Hill

Two dumb kids from suburbia chasing $5 bags in the wrong place at the wrong time ended up on a full-blown hostage adventure — guns, laced blunts, 40s, chaos, and a girl literally kicked out the van.

Hamilton Hill gave us memories we never asked for… but it gave us stories.

Some people have ghost stories.
We’ve got The Laced Blunt Kidnapping of ’95.

And somehow — by God’s mercy —
we lived to tell it.

Community

Every March, the world loses its mind over basketball.

Published

on

By OG Strain

Every March, the world loses its mind over basketball.

That’s cute.

While brackets are getting busted on ESPN, I’m building a bracket of my own — and it smells like terpenes, broken down nugs, and somebody’s uncle yelling, “Yo this that pressure!”

Welcome to March Madness: 518 Edition.

Not basketball.

Bud.

The Mission: “What’s the Best Sh*t You Got?”

For the entire month of March 2026, I’m on a mission across the 518.

Dispensaries.
Private growers.
Pop-up vendors.
Events with ten tables and a fog machine working overtime.
Your cousin’s best friend who only grows 3–6 plants but swears he cracked the genetic Da Vinci Code.

I don’t care where I’m at.

If you’re producing flower and I see you? I’m walking up calmly, respectfully… and asking one simple question:

“What’s the best sh*t you got?”

Not your most popular.
Not what’s moving fastest.
Not the one with the flashy bag and the cartoon alien.

Out of your 30… 40… maybe 50 jars?

Show me your champion.

One Vendor at a Time. No Favorites.

Here’s how this is going down.

At a typical 518 event, you’ve got 8–12 vendors. Sometimes more. Every single one of them is catching the same energy from me.

I’m coming to each table like:

“Let me see your best best best sh*t.”

If it looks worthy?
If it smells like it’s about to change somebody’s personality?
If the trichomes look like they filed taxes?

I’m going home with it.

Maybe you gift it.
Maybe I buy it.
Maybe we shake hands like two prize fighters before a main event.

But I’m leaving with a sample of your absolute best.

And then I’m doing it again at the next table.
And the next event.
And the next week.

This Ain’t a One-Weekend Thing

I’m hitting at least one to two events a week.
All month long.

That’s potentially:
    •    Dozens of vendors
    •    Multiple private small-batch growers
    •    Select dispensary stops (yeah, I might slide through… don’t act shocked)
    •    Backyard legends who swear they grow better than licensed facilities

By the end of March, I’m going to have sampled the best of the best from across the 518 community.

Not the mid-tier.
Not the “it’s decent.”
Not the “it’ll do.”

The BEST each grower is willing to stand behind.

Ego Growers… This Is Your Moment

Let’s talk to the growers with confidence.

You know who you are.

You’ve said at least once:

“Nobody’s touching my flower.”
“My terps different.”
“They ain’t curing like me.”
“I don’t even enter competitions ‘cause it wouldn’t be fair.”

Cool.

Prove it.

Put it in my hands.

This isn’t about hype.
It’s not about who posts the most on Instagram.
It’s not about who knows the most people.

It’s about what’s in the jar.

The Criteria? You Already Know.

We’re talking:
    •    Bag appeal that makes you pause mid-conversation
    •    Nose that punches through a sealed container
    •    Structure that says “grown with intention”
    •    Smooth smoke — no throat karate
    •    Flavor that lingers like a good song
    •    Effects that make you say, “Ohhh… there it is.”

I’m not looking for gimmicks.
I’m looking for greatness.

If your best is better than everyone else’s best?

We’re going to know.

What You’ll Get at the End of March

By the time April hits, I’ll have an answer.

I might not be able to say who has the best weed in all of New York.

I might not even be able to say who has the best weed in the 518 overall.

But I will be able to tell you this:

Who had the best bud in the 518 for the month of March 2026.

And it won’t be some secret underground unicorn that nobody could access.

It’ll be flower that the average tapped-in community member could’ve actually found and gotten their hands on.

We might crown:
    •    One undisputed champion

Or…
    •    A Top 3 that had the whole region in a chokehold

We’ll see how the smoke clears.

This Is a Warning (In the Most Respectful Way)

If you see me at an event this month?

Don’t act surprised when I pull up to your table.

You already know what I’m about to say.

“What’s the best sh*t you got?”

March Madness in the 518 has officially begun.

And by the end of the month, somebody’s walking away with bragging rights.

OG Strain is on the hunt.

You’ve been warned. 🌿

Continue Reading

Community

🌿 The Dream We Rolled Up… And Then It Actually Happened

Published

on

By OG Strain

Hey family, it’s OG Strain.

I gotta be honest with you — earlier last year we were basically standing outside in the cold, metaphorically speaking, looking around Upstate New York like:

“Yo… why is there a bar on every corner but not one spot to legally and socially puff with the fam?”

You couldn’t throw a hemp wick without hitting a liquor store.
But try to find a chill, cannabis-friendly hangout?

Good luck. You’d have better odds finding a seed in a $400 eighth.

We wrote about it. We dreamed about it. We said how dope it would be if we had real spaces — not just once-a-year festivals — but weekly, consistent, predictable spots where cannabis lovers could gather without someone yelling, “Take that outside!”

And family…

🚨 IT HAPPENED. 🚨

From “Wouldn’t It Be Cool If…” to “Pull Up, We’re Here.”

Fast forward about six months into 2026 and now?

You can practically spin in a circle in the 518 and land on a canna event.

Not corporate mega-clubs with velvet ropes and bottle service (we don’t want bottle service anyway).
I’m talking about private, community-driven spots. Invite-based. Word-of-mouth. Facebook-post-before-you-go type vibes.

Places where:
    •    You bring your own flower.
    •    Or grab some there.
    •    Or dab.
    •    Or munch an edible.
    •    Or sip something infused.
    •    Or just vibe out and talk terpenes like it’s fantasy football stats.

We didn’t have this last year. Not weekly. Not consistently. Not five events within driving distance on a random Thursday.

Now? It’s regular.

The Underground Is Wide Awake

Spots like The Treehouse in Schenectady lighting up certain nights.
Tokalotapot Seeds and Cannafae throwing bingo events that hit harder than a 28% indica.
Weedstock in Saugerties pulling the tribe together.
Chronical Gardens in Amsterdam with those “Saturdaze & Sundaze” where if you know… you absolutely know.

The Clock Tower? Pay attention.
Johnny Applekush? Follow him. He’ll tell you where the smoke signal is rising.
Damn Sam and Emily Harper? When they curate an event, it’s already legendary before the first cone is packed. Their Palenville gatherings sell out vending spots faster than a limited drop of OG genetics.

We appreciate you.

But here’s the real point…

It’s Not About the Promoters — It’s About the Shift

Last year this felt like a stoner fantasy:

“Imagine if instead of going to a bar, we went to a canna lounge.”

Now?
You can literally choose between 1–4 cannabis-friendly events any given week.

That’s not a dream. That’s momentum.

And here’s why it’s happening:

People are tired of alcohol.

They’re tired of:
    •    Waking up feeling like their tongue slept in a sandbox.
    •    Spending the next day apologizing for texts they don’t remember sending.
    •    Uber receipts that look like car payments.
    •    Risking DUIs just to “have fun.”

A lot of folks are putting down the beer bottle and picking up a doobie. Or an infused drink. Or a hash hole that makes them contemplate the universe for 47 peaceful minutes.

And here’s the difference.

Alcohol wrecks the whole night — and sometimes the next day.

Cannabis? For most seasoned daily smokers, it’s not that kind of chaos. It’s not blood-alcohol math and “Am I over the limit?” roulette.

But let’s be honest — 99% of the daily smokers I know aren’t falling over sideways after a joint. We’re having conversations about terpenes, laughing at inside jokes, and heading home chill.

It’s a completely different energy.

Finally… Our Type of People

The best part?

It’s not just about smoking.

It’s about finding your tribe.

The people who:
    •    Smell the jar before they ask THC percentage.
    •    Care about cure and burn.
    •    Know the difference between “gassy” and “diesel.”
    •    Pass left because we’re civilized.

These aren’t bar strangers screaming over music.
These are like-minded cannabis lovers who actually want to be there.

You make real connections. You meet growers. You meet creators. You meet the quiet dude in the corner who turns out to have the craziest headstash you’ve ever seen.

That’s what we were wishing for.

And now we have it.

The 518 Is Rolling Forward

We might not have polished, neon-sign, mainstream “Canna Clubs” yet.

But if you’re paying attention to the underground?
If you’re following the right people?
If you’re plugged in?

You can find a spot near you any week.

And when I go out, I post it. I make it public. Pull up. Let’s build the culture together.

Because this isn’t just about smoking weed.

It’s about reclaiming social space.

It’s about replacing hangovers with harmony.

It’s about choosing a plant over poison.

It’s about community.

Last year it was a dream.

This year?

It’s lit.

And family…

We’re just getting started. 🌿🔥

Continue Reading

Community

A Letter of Gratitude to the Community That Built Us

Published

on

By Herbert Greenstein, CEO & Founder, The Plug’s Pages Magazine

To our loyal readers, respected cultivators, industry leaders, and cannabis connoisseurs—

Today’s article is not about a strain profile, an industry shift, or a product review. It is about gratitude.

A few years ago, I found myself writing tirelessly for a major publication. I gave it my time, my creativity, and my voice. While I am thankful for the experience, there came a moment when I realized something important: I was pouring my heart into something that never truly felt like mine. The work was there. The passion was there. But the ownership—the pride—was not.

So I made a decision that would change my life.

I walked away with nothing but ambition and a vision: to build a publication that truly belonged to the community it served. A place where cannabis culture would be respected, where contributors would be credited, and where readers would feel seen. That vision became The Plug’s Pages Magazine.

“Take me with you.”

I did.

And it remains one of the best decisions of my life.

Building this magazine alongside Seymour has been an incredible journey. To watch something we created from the ground up begin to thrive—to see it grow, to see it reach readers, to see it matter—has been nothing short of surreal. This time, the publication is ours. The vision is ours. The responsibility is ours. And the gratitude we feel is immeasurable.

But no magazine exists without its contributors.

I would like to offer a special and heartfelt thank you to Mr. OG Strain of Strain’s Strain Reviews (Talk Cannabis) on YouTube. Since joining us last summer, he has become our top contributor and an irreplaceable force behind the scenes. His dedication, consistency, and work ethic have allowed Seymour and me—after decades of grinding for this community—to finally take a breath.

OG Strain is not just a contributor. He is an asset to this publication and to the cannabis community at large. His voice, insight, and commitment have strengthened The Plug’s Pages in ways that cannot be overstated. For that, we are deeply thankful.

We would also like to recognize one of our newer contributors, Tok of Tokalotapot Seeds. Though newer to our pages, his knowledge of cultivation—growing, planting, harvesting, and understanding the plant at its roots—has already left a mark. We value his expertise and look forward to many more thoughtful contributions from him in the future.

And finally—to the community.

Without you, there is no magazine.

Without the readers who take a few moments out of their day to engage with an article…
Without the supporters who share our work…
Without the smokers, the growers, the advocates, the consumers—the people who genuinely care about this plant and its culture…

The Plug’s Pages would not exist.

This publication belongs to you as much as it belongs to us. You are the reason we write. You are the reason we continue. You are the reason it grows.

So today, we ask you to do something simple:

Pat yourselves on the back.

Because you built this.

Thank you for believing in us.
Thank you for reading.
Thank you for supporting.
And thank you for being part of this community.

With sincere gratitude,

Herbert Greenstein
CEO & Founder
The Plug’s Pages Magazine

Continue Reading

Trending