Well, if you want to know the whole truth about it, I don’t live in Arizona. My in-laws live here so my wife and I (and our dog) drive out from Missouri two or three times a year. I have kept a small, rotating stash of cannabis tucked away at my in-laws’ house so I don’t have to run out and buy flower right after I get here. Trouble is, the desert is a difficult place to stash marijuana if you are going to let it set for months before returning to it. I have employed a mason jar and a Pelican case in my effort to keep the jars sealed but nothing is going to be perfect in the desert.
That said, here are my notes on Connected’s Trop Z, a jar I bought from the Trulieve on Grant in Tucson last September. It had been in the jar already a couple months at that point so I was prepared for dried-out bud when I opened the Trop Z during our most recent visit to Tucson in March.
The jar did appear to have its inner seal intact. But it weighed out to a mere 3.45 grams. Sure, maybe the bud lost some moisture weight as it waited in the desert for someone to open it. So, the jar’s inner seal appears to be inadequate in keeping it truly sealed. I had it in one of the large green zip bags you get from the dispensary but I did not have it in a mason jar, and I hadn’t yet bought the Pelican case I am now holding some of my Tucson jars in.
Nonetheless, the Trop Z smelled good when I opened the jar. It did have a tropical smell. The bud was crumbly but not hard, a strange combination. It was dry but soft. I can’t say I’ve encountered that combo before. And it was tasty. Fruity and sweet. I puffed some from a glass chillum. These are my notes verbatim from the first time smoking it:
First Smoke
The Trop Z. Background high, comes in and out. I am hung up on the news, the attempt to … re-make America on the fly. It becomes the place my mind goes when I encounter The Bite. What I’d really rather not think about but Trop Z says I need to face it. Power grabs is what it feels like. Ah, heck, I’ll leave it alone. It doesn’t make for good writing nor for a pleasant high. What dreck.
I was hanging laundry, outside on a line to dry. Drying clothes on the line has become one of my favorite simple pleasures, the perfect task for blazing your way through a warm late March afternoon in the desert. It’s been nice here; I don’t want to go back to Missouri.
You need the right conditions for drying clothes outside. Space, clean air (no pollen, no smoke, no lawn crews blowing dirt and dust around), and you need dry air, or somewhat dry air and a breeze. Sun helps. Here, in the desert, the conditions couldn’t be better on a dry day with a little breeze, full sun and the temperature pushing ninety. By the time we get back to Missouri the pollen season will have started, or it will be close to starting. We have a lot of trees around, the conditions won’t be nearly as good for hanging laundry. Maybe inside with the windows open, or in the garage. I’ll try to find a way.
I like the Trop Z. Daytimer. Challenging enough, not stoned, productive (laundry), and pen-to-paper. It’s just about 14:00.
Second Session with Trop Z
Citrus dank aroma upon opening the jar for the first time in a couple of days. Unusual texture on this bud, not sure what to make of it. The grind is plush, fluffy. The lineage is Xeno x (GDP x THH). The Xeno derives from Kush Mints x Zkittlez (source: Allbud). GDP stands for Granddaddy Purple, THH stands for Tom Hill’s Haze.
Need for Tucson: rolling supplies. Single-wide paper, tips, gummed tips.
Fairly high on Topical Z. Nothing wrong with this stuff. Carefree high, a “peaceful easy feeling.” I am out in the casita (a small, detached office) typing and texting. The weather is perfect. I have music going. Blissy.
The Trop Z has a citrus and mint flavor with a menthol finish. It’s a spitter, but most j’s are. It’s tasty and unusual, a happy ride. Songs. Bob Dylan, “Mississippi.” A day too long. How was that song kept off of Time Out of Mind? What other uncollected gems lie thereabout? These Tom Petty songs that are coming out, uncollected wildflowers. I will roll my joints and then I will go away. Into the hills, among the saguaro, stray cactus, top of the mountain. Trop Z!
An hour later…. Stoned now. This is the Z, the Zkittlez, the Grapefruit in it? Makes me a little too chill. Ready to re-up, ready for anything.
The Trop Z has carry. Legit. I feel like I must’ve smoked again but, no, I haven’t. I sat down and re-read some writing I did earlier today. I’ve still got some pep despite several drinks. Binary star, eventually it doesn’t work anymore. I’m out there somewhere and spinning. The essence of me here on this planet, thanks to me or whoever got me here, on this weird and strange tangible planet.
Third session with Tropical Z: It has Carry
Time to smoke, 15:38 MST. I’ve had some vodka, not a full ration. Going with Trop Z.
It does have a Biskante taste but then menthol takes over the palate. Nothing against menthol, it’s a flavorful smoke and it burns well. It’s got more flavor than 90% of the weed I’ve smoked in the last year. It’s a little of that orange pencil eraser flavor before a menthol minty coolness sets in. It’s 15:54.
The Trop Z has some bite but the weather is perfect. I’m dredging things up, not my favorite thing to do. Or maybe it is, which is why I keep doing it. Listening to the Blue Jays game. Santander with a single…
Hours later…
For a moment there, I was going to say that Trop Z was a decent smoke but not one of my all-time favorites. I was going to say it was not quite for me despite being tasty.
Then a couple hours went by. It’s now 19:28 and I haven’t smoked anything else. The Trop Z has carried. It just kept bannering in the background. Steady fuel. There was a long, confrontational bite phase. Then I scarfed some food and I was capable of financial advice talk with my father-in-law. Even now I am still motoring on a .3 gram Trop Z joint I smoked almost four hours ago. The weather is exquisite. It’s dry, gusty, the perfect temp for watching clouds and a sunset.
I can’t knock this Trop Z in any respect. It’s got a wide arc. I am going to smoke something else, though. It’s been a good afternoon/evening. I have not been drinking too much, nor have I over-smoked. I’m letting things play out and I still feel a body buzz along with a contentedness of mind. Mostly excellent setting and circumstances help a lot. 19:33 MST, March 28, 2025, Tucson, Arizona, USA, planet Earth.com!
Tropical Z, the Fourth and Final Round
We are back home in Missouri after a mostly excellent trip to Tucson and back. I have burned my last Tropical Z joint. There’s still some back in my Tucson cache but it’ll be months before I am back in the desert.
The Trop Z is sneaky functional. I am getting chores done. Laundry then hand-pumping the water rising in what for lack of a better word I will call a cistern we have discovered lurking under the floor in the house we moved into a mere five months ago. There’s basically a spring under our house. A flood geyser. It rained like hell here off and on for four days. How high’s the water, mama?
You won’t get a crazy goofy head high from the Trop Z. But’s it’s remarkably good fuel without being racy. This will force me to open up to more Zkittlez crosses. I’ve shied away from them after getting sleepy stoned from some Blue Zkittlez I smoked at a Fourth of July party a couple years back. Of course, I was also drinking some bourbon on that occasion, so maybe I have practiced some bad science.
It’s a steady mid-ground burn from the Trop Z. I feel like I could smoke something else. I am still craving that zany head high, something more intense than Trop Z. But I know that prior sessions with Trop Z carried for hours, longer than I would have imagined an hour or even two hours in. I’ll give this smoke a little longer before I pile on. It’s been about two hours since I smoked…
An hour later…
The Trop Z’s great. I did get a little zany. I was hunched over the register/air duct in our basement where the spring has sprung. I was making jokes to myself about starting an artisanal hand-pumped bottled water company called Wildwood Water. Then I was thinking that maybe, just maybe the spring is actually the Fountain of Youth and I could take some to my dad, who is in a nursing home in Belleville, IL. I thought I could bring him some of the magical Wildwood Water and have him drink it. If it killed him, fine, put him out of his wheelchair-bound dementia-riddled misery. But maybe it would heal him and I would get my dad back. The water does in fact look very clear and clean!
I wonder if the architect who built this house in 1972—who then lived in it for 29 years—knew that the house was built on a spring. News to us!
The Trop Z has incredible carry. You can’t rush it. You can’t tell it what to do. It will drive the car, you just have to sit back and let it go…
P.S. Space-Faced
But then I did go ahead and smoke another J, Space Face, also from the great state of Arizona. And let me tell you folks, I got faced, alright. Space Faced. But that’s a story for another day…
Weeds of Grass 