Drugs Part 2

May 14, 2017

With my medical marijuana card safely in hand I head off to the nearest licensed dispensary, which is about an hour or so from my house. I’m picturing this little store on Main Street between the flower shop and a deli. Not today, though. My iPhone directs me to the old industrial section of Brockton, Massachusetts. Not a place I would normally go to even during the day.


I find the building, and it just looks like an old, closed-up factory, except for a tiny sign with the name of the business on it. I drive behind the building and spot a door with a few cars parked outside.

As I enter the building, I notice the security guards who look me over like a hyena looks at a piece of juicy liver. He directs me to the bulletproof glass, where I hand my card over to the young man behind the window. He fills in the blank forms on the computer, hands my card back, and presses a buzzer that opens the door to the inner sanctum.

I walk through and see a few more guards and a line of people waiting to be served. Immediately, I notice that I’m about the youngest one here in a group of about twenty. Are these all of the leftover hippies from the 60s? I start to chat with the woman behind me, who tells me that she’s eighty-three years old. I ask if the weed is helping her, and she tells me that she has brain cancer and was supposed to die a few months ago. She’d been smoking weed for about eight months, and her doctors tell her that her cancer has stopped growing. Every month when she gets her social security check, her first stop is to pick up her month’s supply of weed.

The guy in front of me hears us talking and informs us that he has lung cancer, so he can’t smoke the weed. Instead he buys cannabis-infused snickerdoodles and other “edibles.” What? Whatever happened to just making a batch of brownies? Now you can get your weed in snickerdoodles? I love snickerdoodles!

Finally I reach the counter, where I can tell them what I want … except I have no idea what I want. I look at the counter, and there’s all kinds of stuff I don’t even recognize. The young lady behind the counter takes pity on me and asks if I’m new. I nod my head and say “What is all this stuff?” She proceeds to enlighten me.

“Well we have all sorts of wonderful products. If you like to smoke we have a number of varieties. We have sativa strains and indica strains, depending on how you like your high. The sativa will help you concentrate and keep you awake, while the indica is wonderful if you have trouble falling asleep. We have a number of different strains available, and you can pick any you want.”

Here are the names of some of the strains they currently offer:


Agent Orange
Animal Cookies
Blueberry Trainwreck
Death Star
Holy Grail
Mr. Nice Train
Purple Diesel

I don’t know about you, but Animal Cookies sounds tempting. I wasn’t sure about smoking weed again, so I looked at the edibles. They offer the traditional brownies, but also cocoa Rice Crispy Treats, gourmet mint chip ice cream, gourmet chocolate, gummy bears, and yes, snickerdoodles. Mint chocolate chip ice cream? For real? Gotta try me some of that!

When I ask how much I can buy, the answer is that I can buy as much as I can afford, since they only take cash. Only cash, huh? Well, okay then. I load up with about $400 worth of weed and edibles, and they actually give it to me in a brown paper bag, just like the old days.

It’s been a year now, and there’s been a major change in how my dispensary operates. Now I can text in my order and they’ll deliver right to my door so I don’t have to drive a couple of hours to get my “medication.” As I recall, my dealer in the 70s would do the same thing. Talk about service.

Now, I don’t know if marijuana cures cancer or not, but I’m here to tell you that I’ve been using marijuana (in small doses) for about a year, and at my last PET scan my oncologist told me that my cancer isn’t growing. Maybe it’s the marijuana, maybe it’s my clean living lifestyle (yeah, right), or maybe the cancer is just afraid of the Lovely Louise, who says that if I die of cancer she’ll kill me herself and plant me under the tomatoes. Whatever it is, I’m taking it. So if you stop by the house to visit, I might just light up a joint or grab a piece of chocolate, and I just might share some with you … if you have your medical marijuana card. Wouldn’t want to break the law now, would I?

 

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