L.A.'s Medical Marijuana Theater

Things are a little loose in Shakytown according to Steve Lopez. Heh.

In the meantime, let's get back to that doctor in Glendale. You may remember that he was the one who told me that, as a gynecologist, he didn't know a thing about bad backs. But within 10 minutes, he had written me a recommendation for an herbal remedy to ease my pain.

Reminds me of an old joke:

Little girl to pharmacist: "Hey mister, do you fit diaphragms?"

Pharmacist, somewhat taken aback by that question from one so young: "Why, yes..."

Little girl: "Wash yer hands and gimme an ice cream cone."

Bada bing! But I digress...

That meant I could go to any dispensary for my medicine, simple as that. But in Los Angeles, you can get light-headed trying to decide where to go.

There's the Unique Vapor Lounge in Tujunga, Green Easy in Mid-City, Westside Medical on Wilshire, and on and on. Some places have free delivery. Some are open all night. The buds go by names like Trainwreck, Purple Voodoo, Mango Og and Purple LA Confidential.

Don't like to smoke? No problem. You can get your medicine in brownies, crackers and even tortilla chips.

First stop: Hollyweed. The name got me.
...

I knocked on the locked door of Hollyweed and a no-nonsense voice instructed me to slide my driver's license and marijuana recommendation through the mail slot. It was kind of creepy. Would I ever see my license again? Was a DEA agent inside making a copy? I was getting paranoid and I hadn't even had a puff.

A few minutes later, a guard opened sesame. Inside, a 20-year-old, dreadlocked gent named Charlie greeted me. He wore a T-shirt that said "Marijuana Cures Racism," and he had me sign forms spelling out the terms of my acceptance into a nonprofit collective run by members for the benefit of patients. Membership does have its rewards.

Then he unlocked another door and took me into a small room with jars of buds on display, just like in a candy shop. Charlie recommended a strain called Indica, which he called a good muscle relaxant for back pain. I opted for something called Chunky Munky and found myself craving the ice cream without even lighting up. He weighed a gram and put it into a prescription bottle, like it was Vicodin, and I handed him a $20 "donation."

Was this really happening?

Hadn't lit up yet, huh?

Please read the rest.

Update:

Planning a career change?



Update II:

Go see Lopez' gynecologist. Heh.