I’m taking a massive bong rip in the middle of a group sesh when a cop suddenly shows up unannounced right behind me. Alarm bells go off – the last time something like this happened, I ended up in the back of a police cruiser staring down any number of potential unsavory outcomes. Except that we’re in Jamaica, and the cop is coming to drop in on his friend Wabba, owner of the joint and master traditional steam chalice packer.
