The likeness of a rabbit hole instantly came to mind as we began to peruse Triple Chocolate Chip’s lineage--and that of parents Mint Chocolate Chip and Triple OG. Needless to say, this heavy indica-leaning hybrid is one of the most exotic, complex flowers on the market. Another rabbit hole, appropriately, is the psychedelic, Wonderland-adventure it delivers even for the most frequent connoisseurs, enough to send you spelunking the couch.
We received our calendar-worthy sample from Doctor’s Orders. Like the “butt of a tarantula,” the buds were hairy and plump with streaks of dark gold and purple, pleasantly dense with boundless sugar spread. The sweet, fuel-toned bouquet of fresh blossoms spilled from the jar, escorted by a nutty, woody musk. She was easy to break up and pack, cured to perfection and resinous on the fingers.
The first puff bounced us off the floor and “turned the face inside out,” pulverizing like a snapping rubber band (or creeping hard for a handful of critics). A riveting body buzz enabled a few last moments’ focus, until a hilarious case of giggles overcame, energizing, but too-little-too-late on the slippery slope to inevitable mellow. The descent sunk deeper than a relaxed calm; we were zombies, but worse, zombies stumbling into quick-drying cement, often disoriented or dreaming in real life.
Then again, a giddy, nonsensical trip came with. We were so silly, so casual and unguarded that critics independently noted genuine and fun connections made with fellow samplers, despite the inertia. But we lounged, and hard. “I just came home, loaded the Sherlock and let my mind unwind,” said one. Another reported “My body feels like I am actually part of this chair, like an actual attached-limb of the furniture...I want to nap.”
Depending on the critic, after 1-2 hours, we were each laying down flat. Even if still awake. Any other position just didn’t seem right. Munchies were minimal -- beef jerky, chocolate milk, cinnamon roll -- essentially bed-time snacks. That said, we didn’t last long. “I was snoozing before 10pm,” one wrote. “Super rare--it was glorious.” Another had “hot tea and a bath” and “raced the Sandman to bed.” Even the most heavy/high-tolerance smokers were conked. We fell asleep quickly, deeply, soundly, with vivid dreams full of wonder and enlightenment.