These are not Weed Faeries. (See more Freedom Rally photos here.)
Is it true that every time you hear a bowl spark, a weed faerie gets her wings? That's one
thing I hoped to learn when I headed out to the MassCann Freedom Rally this
past Saturday afternoon. I was on a mission: to track down the fabled Boston
Weed Faerie and observe her in her natural habitat. But this turned out to be
no easy feat.
I first stumbled
across the Weed Faerie - a/k/a Miss Merry Munchie - on Facebook. Her profile
pic shows her wearing a huge crown of pot leaves, while her vague bio heralds
her as "the friendly weed faerie of the greater Boston area." On Saturday, Merry posted that
she would be at the Freedom Rally: "Can't wait to see everyone!" That was all I
needed - I set off on my search with a pure heart and an open mind.
But alas, it
seemed that nobody I questioned through the haze of smoke circulating
throughout Boston Common had ever heard of Merry. Curiously, though, every last
one agreed that, yes, she was probably real. The first person I queried, Tabby
Cyr (who was in the company of a life-size, walking, talking Gumby), speculated
that the faerie would look like "a huge stoner," with "dreadlocks, and covered
in Rasta colors." Wings? Yes, definitely. "She'd have huge white wings . . .
and lots of sparkles," said Greenpeace volunteer Grace Weise, after some
thought. Where would a weed faerie hang out? "She'd probably be in the trees,
wouldn't she?" said Frank Capone, a member of MassCann's board of directors. "She's
a mystical being. . . . Like, oh, all of a sudden there's weed in my bowl!"
eccentric older gentleman decked out in a homemade jacket covered in buttons
and pins, took a break from posing for photos to weigh in. I asked him if he
knew the Boston Weed Faerie. "Jesus?" he said. No, no, the Weed Faerie. "Ah,
haven't met him yet."
As the afternoon
wore on, and the trail grew colder, my faith began to waver. "I have nothing to
say about weed faeries," a cop said, refusing to meet my eyes. I suspected he
knew more than he was letting on, but I dropped it before things got ugly. Then
I stumbled upon Lilith Astaroth, singer of local doom-metal band Sorrowseed . .
. and close personal friend of the Weed Faerie! Or so she claimed. "She's
adorable," Astaroth said. "Spreading sweetness and joy." Sounds nice, but where
was she? Astaroth didn't know.
through a gap in the crowd, I spotted her! Just a flash of her gossamer wings,
as she flitted across the Common. I took off in hot, desperate pursuit. But she
was so spritely! So nimble! I feared I would lose her, my clumsy human gait far
too slow to catch up. But she paused at a table (even faeries like swag) and I
grabbed her. She turned and blinked at me, and my heart fell. She didn't look
like the Merry of Facebook.