"Tripp Keber's black Hummer smudges an otherwise empty side street of downtown Denver
“Hey, jump on in,” says the 45-year-old, motioning to the passenger door.
Beneath a snarling metal grille sits the personalised number plate “Dixie X”. Keber’s hair is slicked-down, his skin luminous in a way that you tend to see on the wealthy and the suit on his stocky frame, custom-made.
Sharing the car with Keber’s CFO and another acronymic executive, a smile spreads across my face – prompted partly by the conspicuous transport but mostly by the fact that one of the biggest names in American marijuana is named Tripp. Of course he is.
There have been other monikers, mind: “drug baron”, “ganjapreneur”, “king of weed”... He swats at them in stern rejection, though he’s struggled to shake the “Willy Wonka of Weed”. It seems fitting as we barrel beyond the city limits of Colorado’s capital, cocooned in this whimsical machine. And, like Wonka, Keber looks se...
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