On Tuesday afternoon, a motley crew of teenagers, mothers with tightly pinned chignons, a bearded, obese former Yippie clad in Velcro shoes and blue sweatpants, college students wearing tank tops and skintight jeans and homeless New Yorkers attracted to the noise gathered in Union Square Park to ask Governor Paterson to legalize medical marijuana.

The date was 4/20, a day loaded with significance for American pot smokers. In front of the small crowd stood a rotund, shaggy-haired young man wearing a black “D.A.R.E to Resist the War on Drugs” T-shirt. “We stand on the shoulders of all the social movements that have come before us,” he declared into the PA system. His stomach shifted over his belt as he ticked off the major struggles for justice in the United States. Civil rights, gay rights, he said. Now, marijuana rights.

“Have a great and happy 4/20 everybody!” he shouted.

Although the crowd cheered, another young member of NORML—the National Organization for the Reform of Marijuana Laws—took the microphone and reminded the group of the April 15 death of Jack Herer, a famous marijuana-and-hemp-advocate who passed away from a heart attack.

“It’s also a sad 4/20 for us,” he said. The crowd bowed their heads in a moment of silence. “Bummer,” somebody whispered.

Bobby Black and Danny Danko, both editors at High Times, snaked their way through the crowd. “All the polls show that opinions are shifting towards recreational use of marijuana,” Danko said after he finished shaking outstretched hands.

For Danko and Black, it’s only a matter of time before marijuana is legal. The stars are aligning. First there was America’s golden boy, Michael Phelps and his admission that he takes deep bong hits on a regular basis, Danko said. Then, there is the growing number of states, like Michigan and South Dakota, which have recently passed or are very likely to pass medical marijuana laws in the near future. And finally, Danko said, there is Barack Obama’s election to the White House.

I asked them if they thought President Obama smoked weed.

“Now?” Danny asked.

“I don’t think he does now,” Black said. He flipped his long, straight brown hair over his shoulder. “But I bet he wishes he did.”

“I know he smokes cigarettes,” Danko said. “I know he’s struggled with that. For his health’s sake, I hope he’s smoking weed.”

“I bet he wishes he could just light up a fatty at the end of the day fffttt—“ Black lifted his fingers to his mouth and inhaled. “Man, health care is stressing me out.”

Steven Abreu, a baby-faced 21-year-old electrician, took the Long Island Rail Road from Plainview to attend the rally. He said that he attends every pro-marijuana rally in New York.

Steven put his hand on his pocket to show me his phone and the 10,000-plus fans he had acquired on his Facebook’s marijuana fan page. He patted his pockets, and slid his backpack off his shoulders.

The face of Bob Marley jiggled up and down as Steven shook his bag. His face dropped. “I just got pick-pocketed?” he asked to no one in particular. “Man… That’s a big downer.”

His girlfriend started patting his jean pockets. “Wait,” she said. She felt her shoulder. The phone was tucked between her back and the straps of her backpack. “Are you kidding me Steven?” she said. “You put that there.”

“Wow,” Steven said, shaking his head. “I didn’t even smoke today.”