Uuhhh ... it's that time again. The quiet consolation of evening has passed and we're back in the shuffle of the mortal coil. But, alas! There is herb of which to partake! Herb for all humankind! This is the first toke, first drag, pull, hit, touch: the first time that we're putting our lips to Mary Jane's sweet kiss. Like the junkie on their first hit, or the alky on their first sip (without all of the depressing, suicidal dependence) ... this is the jubilant, angelic crux of the day.
Now that the mota's out of the bag, let's discuss where the most ideal of tokes are partaken.
Some San Antonians come here to move their bodies along at a cardio-calibrated tempo, slapping time to and with their jovial flanks, jogging to the internal beat of their ideal physique. Others come to get stoned and then do the same, propelled by the motivational properties of the plant: to pass themselves along the designated corridor of fitness, ordained by the City. It's not Woodlawn Lake (1103 Cincinnati Ave.), however, so don't go to Woodlawn Lake and smoke weed. Marijuana is illegal. And weed is a gateway drug and stuff. Again, Woodlawn Lake is beautiful and a real treat to behold, but pot and beautiful, idyllic scenery don't mix. DON'T SMOKE WEED AT WOODLAWN LAKE.