Last season on Broad City, Ilana informed Abbi that storing weed in nature's pocket (government name: the vagina) is the safest way to travel on the subway with drugs. This raises all kinds of questions: Is God a woman? (Duh.) What if you're on the rag? (You need something stronger than weed.) What if you don't have a vagina? (♬ 'Cause it's a bittersweet/symphony, this life...♬)
The truth is, even Mozart had to practice. Just because you were maybe born with a gift — in this case, a fleshy, discreet hiding spot for your drugs — doesn't mean you can just lean on your natural blessings. Vaginas are sometimes unreliable, especially if you don't have one of your own. So what are some additional measures you can take to safely move your weed from Point A to Point B via public transportation?
Unlike condoms, every layer helps. Create a forcefield of plastic bags around your weed until the odor is undetectable, then toss it in a purse or backpack with some other crap — receipts, candy wrappers, exploded tampons — to camouflage the pot bauble in your trash purse. [Note: A trash purse is always a good thing to have on hand in case motherfuckers wanna get nosy.]
Managing smells on the subway is important. Else-wise, some pot fiend will catch your weed scent and start earnestly eyeballing everyone in the subway car, trying to identify and lavish you with Unapologetic Stoner Solidarity. It's thirsty and gross and totally preventable. Don't get caught out there by some bozo because you failed to wrap it up.
Just in case you underestimated the stank of your stash, stand close (but not too close) to someone the other passengers will pin the blame on. Good options: Any dude who's wearing like, a bike chain but has no bike; a drunk kid who passed out on his way back to NYU; anyone wearing sunglasses.
Do not wear a weird hat. Do not wear anything that makes you look like you're hiding from the paparazzi. You're not on the Bad tour, you're on the B train. If you're high and paranoid that people are onto you, remember: red eyes can be the result of allergies, or crying. But sunglasses + hat + a giant bottle of red electrolyte drink? International sign for, "I'm on drugs."
If you keep a glass piece on your person, you might as well carry a sign that says, "I wash my clothes in marijuana detergent." Unless you're boiling your pieces on a regular basis (lol), they stink and they will be your downfall. Remember: trash purse, not bong purse. Also, who are you? A Sadie Lou rising sophomore named Miles? Buy some rolling papers like an adult.
Aka let go and let God. Don't flashback to your parents' driveway circa 1999, when you actually had to cart around Visine and chewing gum. Don't misguidedly try to mask weed smells with aerosol body and/or bathroom spray. You will reek of paranoia, not fresh gardenias. Be cool. Accept that you're bringing weed on the train, say a quick prayer to Saint Christopher, and set off on the journey of your lifetime (or, of the next three hours). Godspeed.