The nice thing about Dr J’s syringes of CO2 Cannabis Oil--other than their overall simplicity and sleek design -- was that the crisp, amber-colored liquid therein did not clog, but was still semi-stable enough to put on a dabber without leakage. One critic compared the oil to “illuminated honey” as it flowed from the vial; like the flashy package it came from, the syringe was a beautiful demonstration in the merging of science and alchemy.

 RXtraction comes Indica, Sativa and Hybrid-specific, and we tried the indica version. Our first hit immediately sent us swinging through the jungle like a vicodin rush. A spicy release on the tongue, and beautiful orange-tangerine aftertaste. The first knee-jerk spasticity came with an chill and fast-growing undertow. The feet became heavy weights, but all other panic settled down in a calm. Breathing and heartbeat slowed. Aggression and frustrations slipped away. It was extremely peaceful.

Strategically, we waited five minutes between puffs, experiencing waves of sinking and further buzz. Relaxed, some slumped in their chairs and lost their thought process. But with surprisingly good lucidity, recognition and reflexes were still strong, if just slightly slowed.

A 2nd hit carried twice as much weight as first with considerable girth. A creative strain with some slight mind-body separation, the overall psychedelia grew magnificently, slowing nerves and cross-splicing others. About 2-3 minutes after second hit, a very definitive wave of warmth and heaviness passed, sort of like hard-core painkiller that finally hits the bloodstream. More than anything, it was an extreme bake, if we’ve ever experienced one. Nothing too visual or too psychedelic, but heady enough for novel pleasure and a strong chill-out as bonus. One could sit and watch a movie for several hours, but not without playing music, sketching, or knitting simultaneously.

There seemed to be no end to the downpull; gravity increased tenfold and we stumbled around between pleasurable zombie-daze and sofa pillows. Given enough coffee, the strain would make a perfect daytime pain-killer. But the indican fusion eventually guided us into ultimate non-sensical drowsiness as a warped numbness accelerated through the body. Critics rocked back and forth with the music and felt good vibes, noted increase in gentility, and sparking of revolutionary ideas, but absolutely no motivation or energy to see them through, much less write them down. The nadir was accompanied by a few munchies, but not without the better judgement against them.

Somewhat energized and then tired, consciousness careened between extremes. The mind functioned adequately even until the end, just crippled and easily stalled; critics caught themselves stopping mid-sentence, unable to recall what they were talking about (this happened repeatedly). Keep a pen nearby to jot down your epiphanies, because once forgotten, they’re gone.

 In all, the experience was enough to recommend requesting it by name the next time you’re in a recreational shop. The Critics also strongly urged dabbing from a clean rig to bring out the citrus flavor to the fullest--a “very mouth-watering effect.”

 

Photography from Ry Prichard of Cannabis Encyclopedia