Adventures In Substance Abuse
I thought my back problems were getting better but maybe not so much. So my chiropractor said to me, "Have you considered medical marijuana for the pain?" Well no, no I hadn't. I think the last time I smoked dope was in 1983 at a Kink's concert where I got high and then promptly fell asleep. So she prepared all the paperwork because it's a complicated process this being able to legally smoke illegal drugs.
That night I got online to find a "dispensary." There are a total of 67 dispensaries in the San Jose area. The website even had reviews and menus. Menus! Back in the 70's you got what you got and you were happy with it. Of course back then an ounce was $10.00 and now it's about $365.00. I tell you, my blog is a wealth of useless information.
Wednesday I decided to go to the "store." The "store" was at the very end of a residential street. At first I wasn't sure I was in the right place. The sign in the window said, "Medical Aids - Wheelchairs / Mobility Devices / Walkers." Then I noticed there was a security guard standing inside by the door. I was pretty sure wheelchairs didn't need guarding. And as I walked into the "store" all doubt was vanished. Holy jeebus, I thought I was back at a David Bowie concert in 1980 - the place reeked of uhh ... medicine.
The receptionist had me fill out more paperwork and then told me I was good to go. The big burly security guard announced into his walkie talkie "Patient coming back," unlocked door number one, we walked down a long hall and then he unlocked door number two. High security, this drug selling business. The "medicine" was displayed in cases like you'd see in a bakery store. They even had cookies! The "budtender" (ha, isn't that cute, budtender) asked me what I was looking for. As if I would know. I told him I wanted something "nice." And I only needed a "little bit." Apparently those are not your standard drug terms these days but we finally got me settled with some "Purple Barney." Don't ask, I still don't know.
I took myself home and got out this pipe a friend had lent me for my big adventure. Back in the 70's we didn't use pipes, we rolled joints. But I was never very good at the rolling thing. After about 15 minutes and 15 matches it was obvious I wasn't very good at the pipe thing either. Nothing happened! By this time all of my Purple Barney was gone. Then I thought to myself, "Well if you can learn to knit Fair Isle on YouTube surely you can learn how to smoke a bowl." There are no videos. What the fork?
I think my pot smoking hobby isn't going to take off nearly as well as the knitting did.