Me and Mary Jane A pot newbie's clumsy foray into the world of medical marijuana
  • Chocolate makes the world go round

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    June 24th, 2012Mary JaneMedical Marijuana Dispensary

    So it turns out that the dispensary only takes cash.  Ugh, of course.  So I had to climb out of my rabbit hole, run across the street and hit up the ATM.  As I furtively glanced around, I was sure that everyone knew that I was withdrawing cash to buy drugs.  They will never let those stranded kids/kittens in my car now.  By the time I got back, the hippie chick girl from my pot doc’s office was there and had taken my place.  My awkwardness contrasted sharply against her confidence.  Ugh, I hated her.  She didn’t look constipated at all.

    Finally it was my turn and Dreadlock Alice escorted me through a separate door. In this room there was an equally-dreadlocked man behind a counter.  Under the counter there were jars filled with what I assumed was pot. The jars’ contents were poufy and soft and sort of colorful–nothing like the dried flakes that I’d seen my college neighbors roll into papers or put into their colorful (quite artistic!) water bongs.  There was also a large chalkboard with what appeared to be a menu, although I didn’t understand any of the words. They reminded me of the Indian words that my yoga instructor murmurs while I unsuccessfully try to put my body into unnatural positions.  I turned to the man behind the counter for help.  He asked me simply “What do you want?”  Well, clearly I wanted pot, but after looking at the cryptic menu and jars upon jars I knew that the answer wouldn’t be this simple.

    Sign LanguageI told him that I was a bit of a novice so I would need some guidance.  He was as confused by this (someone over the age of 15 who has never gotten high?) as I was by the fact that there was more than one type of pot.  What followed was a confusing dance similar to watching two people that cannot speak the same language trying to have a conversation.  Very polite, lots of smiling and hand gestures, but no real understanding of what the other person is trying to say.  I bet that stupid hippie chick girl could speak his language.

    Finally I saw some words on the menu that I understood: “Chocolate Chips.”  So I said that I would like “chocolate chips.”  We both smiled with relief, and frankly I was not shocked that chocolate would bring our two worlds together.

    And even better, cannabis candy comes in both chocolate and mint chips! So I got some of both. As he put them into little clear bags, I started looking around for the labels that would give me proper dosage and safety information for my new medicine. It quickly Chocolate Chips Marijuanabecame clear that such items did not exist, so I asked my new friend how many I should eat. This led to a similar conversation as the one I had with my pot doc (he can’t really tell me how much to eat, but don’t eat too much!), but included new information about how every batch of these chips was different depending on how generous the Bammy Baker decided to be while whipping up the latest batch. This got me thinking about who this baker might be, and whether he had a habit of washing his hands before his baking sessions. Sigh. I thanked Dreadlock Sales Guy, said goodbye to Dreadlock Alice, and hightailed it out of there before that damn snake snuck out of its cage.

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