Winter Seed Catalog Moon
Dank. That’s the name of the place. The medical dispensary that now has a retail recreational marijuana cash register, too.
This hidden store is in a setting of low warehouse and light manufacturing type buildings. The brick exterior has no sign and the only evidence of its existence is a black and white piece of 8.5 by 11 taped to the window that says: Dank. Keeping it kind.
Once inside the entry way there is a long hallway with office suites off to both sides. Only at the far end of the hall, maybe 100 feet away is any human being evident.. Sure enough, DANK is the last office suite on the left.
A colorful sign advertising various forms of marijuana: loose, baked, oil and kief (a product unfamiliar to me).
A guy in the required knit hat, ear buds and baggy sweater, a couple of days of growth says, “I have to check your I.D.”
As you might imagine, I gave him a look. The gray-hair and wrinkles? “Sorry, man. The state requires it. I know you’re more than 21. But I have to check the expiration date.” General laughter in the room.
Off to the right is a glass vitrine with three shelves holding hand blown pipes and bowls and bongs, artistic. A roped walkway, ala security lines, held a dozen or so people, mostly young men in their twenties, but there was another older man like me and one woman.
At the end of the line were two cash registers flanking a glass display case with white chocolate with marijuana baked in, chocolate chip cookies, lighters, including a bic lighter, green and with DANK written over a marijuana leaf. The cashiers served as marijuana sommeliers, answering questions about various strains like indica and sativa, prices per ounce.
To an old 60’s guy this was a scene resonant with memories of bags scored from furtive dealers, parties with just a hint of paranoia. And here, in this state where my grandchildren live, and in a store not a mile from their home, people bought and sold grass. Legally.
It was, as we might have said, a trip.
