Old school. Ounces and paper, bring cash. New school. Milligrams and delivery systems, bring cash. in my wheelchair in the back of our van, Sheila driving, a vinyl guy in a streaming world. I’d been hesitant. Looking at the web to see what and how I would take “medicinal marijuana,” I see a galaxy too far out from the Zig Zag, nickel bags, and black lights of the days when I worked at Headquarters East on Mass. Ave., a half-century ago.
Now I have to expand my database to include flowers, buds, and edibles, tinctures and topicals, vaporizers with accurate digital measurement for quantity and heat, and NO SMOKING WEED, instead “vaping.” Most disconcerting is that I have no clue how to convert milligrams to quantities I was familiar with to judge cost and benefit.
It’s a beautiful Saturday morning. I have a print-out of my temporary license from the Commonwealth of Massachusetts legally entitling me to purchase and use medical marijuana. I’m looking for an industrial area not too close to a corruptible residential or respectable commercial pharmaceutical and sundries store. Aha! The setting is familiar from long ago buys–a strip of 1 story warehouse buildings, but for the unusually large number of handicap parking spaces.
We pull in. A cheerful, uniformed middle aged man sitting on a beach chair is greeting and waving goodbye to incoming and outgoing customers. Do not expect the DMV. After showing the gentleman at the door my marijuana paper and official government identification (or what we in the blue states call a driver’s license), I roll down a corridor where a uniformed woman swipes a card to open a locked door.
I enter The Dispensary. Or what looks like a comfortable bank lobby. Two rooms are to my left where I could be asking about a CD. Across from me, comfortable chairs to sit and wait, if crowded, for my number from the deli ticket dispenser on my right, to be called. I am greeted by a lovely young woman with a clipboard which holds a stack of papers to be signed that I will not transfer my marijuana and informing me that marijuana has side effects and is available in an extraordinary number of strains with varying degrees of psychoactive potency for a wide range of conditions.
Flat screen TVs display what I might assume would be current interest rates and borrowing options. No! The percentages they show are of THC and CBD in their available products. For example, “White Rhino”, a hybrid strain has an average THC content of 20.1%. It is in stock. Or I might choose “cannatonic,” a hybrid strain, its genetics unknown, averaging 22.2% CBD, 1.7% CBC, and .9% THC. Purchase limit of 7 grams per patient is currently in place due to limited inventory of this strain.
Also available is “O-pen Vape,” 250 milligram cartridge: Captain’s Cake. Its genetics are Platinum cookies X Forum Cookies X Wi-Fi alien OG, an indica dominant hybrid with an average THC content of 33.7% .CBD, CBC, CBG, and CBN content are all less than 2% on average. In stock: yes. The APR of an intermediate ARM with a 30 year term seems easier to grasp. But no!!
I head to the counter where a teller like row of more lovely young people stand smiling (have I mentioned the wisp of familiar aroma?) as if they want to give me money or handouts at a 1967 smoke-in (ask your grandparents). Next to each lovely is a whiteboard with today’s catch, or rather today’s available strains and their prices. Although my heart is with “O-pen Vape:Captain’s Cake,” my brain says “cannatonic.” My “teller” tells me most of her MS buyers apply the syringe contained resin sublingually. I lay my $100 cash on the counter. My receipt and syringe are placed in a stapled white paper bag and I head out into the bright spring day with the anticipation of youth. A high enough THC content for me.