I just arrived in San Diego, and Doug Benson is in my hotel room, accompanied by a film crew. He wants water – cottonmouth – and I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Benson’s filming another marijuana-infused take-off on Morgan Spurlock’s oeuvre, and our meeting may or may not be in the resulting film. I clear my throat and try to stumble through the jetlag fugue which would, predictably, characterize my time on the west coast.
Having Benson in my hotel room was a highly unusual circumstance, and even he acknowledged it. The comedian had Tweeted a photograph from an elevator that my wife and I had recognized as the one and our hotel room. I asked him if he’d like to come up for an interview. I was surprised when my phone buzzed – a direct message – with a two word message: “Got smoke?” I tapped out a reply as quickly as I could – “Sorry, brother.” – and considered the matter closed.… Read the rest