My question was simple: which is harder to get in California, medical marijuana or Viagra? [Read part one here.]
Step 5. The Marijuana Dispensary
I wasn't sure what to expect from a marijuana dispensary, other than assuming that everyone who worked there would be a stoner. Due to a recent federal crackdown, city officials have quit issuing operating permits, fearing that they themselves will be the subject of legal action. It seems ridiculous that our own city council would be threatened with legal action, but it happens.
El Camino Wellness was either exempt or bold enough to refute the federal warnings. I appreciated their moxie and wanted to give them my business. Also, they were open til 9 p.m.
In the past few days, I'd knocked on the doors of three shuttered marijuana dispensaries, so I wasn't surprised when I couldn't find the door to this one. On my second pass, I realized it was co-occupying, or had taken over, a building under a giant asian "Kim's Pottery" sign. A security guard watched over the enclosed parking lot.
Inside the building stood a second security guard and a metal-detecting gateway. This place was Fort Chronic.
A membership counter sat just inside the door. I had to become a member to buy weed here. Membership was free, but I had to read their Standards of Behavior guidelines, fill out a membership form and sign a waiver. They looked over my medical marijuana credentials and checked a website for verification.
The membership packet alone was worth the price of admission. It was a 27-page tome on their laboratory analysis program, holistic services, and legal advice.
Once I was signed up, I was free to enter the main room. It. Was. Epic.
Tragically, photography was not allowed.
Marijuana buds, oil, tincture, cookies, hash, kief, butter, honey, and sprouted plants (clones.) Everything was beautifully presented on top of a marble countertop. It was like a Starbucks or an agricultural display at the State Fair: Four Hundred and Twenty Uses for Marijuana.
This place was like BevMo for weed. It was a sativa superstore and I was the squarest square that had ever walked through the doors.
I studied the twin flat screen monitors which featured the price breakdowns. There were about 20 types of marijuana buds available, in gram, eighth ounce, quarter ounce, and ounce quantities. Prices ranged from $20 to $55 an eighth ounce ($2,560 - $7,040 per pound.)
I was overwhelmed.
David, the budtender, tried to help. "Can we ask what you are medicating for?" He paused. "You can be as precise or vague as you want."
"Well, lately I've been fighting nausea", I began. "It is worst when I'm watching my 3D TV."
David began to lay out a detailed description of indica and sativa, two differing qualities of marijuana, and their effects on the human brain. Mostly I wasn't listening, I was trying to memorize as many hilarious pot brand names as possible. Names like Purple Urkel, Super Lemon Haze, and Blackberry Kush. I love these. They were like the brand names of homemade vodka brands under the counter at a ghetto liquor store in Kiev.
I finally settled on a brand in my price range. "I think I'd like an eighth of Afghan Diesel."
David leapt into action. He grabbed the display jar and placed it in front of me, accompanied by a second jar, the slightly more expensive OG-47. I couldn't believe it. This guy was trying to upsell me!
I stuck with the Diesel. He replaced the glass display jars and grabbed some pre-packed Mylar bags from behind the counter. Each was marked Afghan Diesel, and each was an eighth ounce, but he was giving me a choice of envelopes to choose from. It was like picking my own apples from the pile at the grocery store.
I picked my bag, paid $44.70 (including 11.75 percent tax) and walked out with a few clumps of fragrant marijuana flowers.
Mission accomplished.
Summary
Marijuana wins.
Getting medical marijuana in California was strikingly easy. First, I found an evaluation clinic. They are usually $45, but I found one having a sale. My evaluation was $25. The next step was actually buying weed, which was $44 for Afghan Diesel and $10 in real diesel to find a dispensary that was still open.
Viagra loses.
To get Viagra, the unexpected Coleridgeblock was that I had to attend an impotence class. The class was free, but it definitely separates who is serious about getting Viagra and those who just want to give it a shot. Getting Viagra also meant spending $45 to see a urologist, and I had to drop my pants and pay another $122 for 20 pills of Levitra.
My adventure had been a success! I'd jumped the hurdles and paid out cash at every step, but my quest was done. I had secured two of the most desirable medications available in California, and I had a pretty good idea of what to do with my weekend.
Read more of Rob's hilarious experiments at c0ckeyed.com.
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