All Aboard!
19/07/19 07:10
We figured that while we're in Boston waiting for Evan and Noah to sit through nine innings of a Red Sox game why not stop by one of the new marijuana retail establishments located in Brookline. We have a few states on board now that offer retail marijuana to the public and Massachusetts is up and running. It was more out of curiosity than anything else that we decided to stop by. We didn't know what to expect entirely and that was part of the allure.
I envisioned a gallery type set-up with buds of every conceivable type on display. The lighting would be just so and the manicured buds placed in glass vials on shelf after shelf would exude purplish and bronzed hues typical of cannabis plants harvested in its prime.
Each and every variety would be tagged and classified one way or another by its genus, assigned a descriptive label, and marked with the appropriate notations indicating THC content giving the end user some notion of its ultimate toxicity.
The shops themselves might more closely resemble a high end jewelry store than a ragtag operation run by a gaggle of hippies with dreadlocks and wearing tie dyed shirts. We rightly or wrongly expected long lines winding in and around the store of patient patrons awaiting their turn to enter the store.
These would not be your hash dens of the past enveloped as they were more often than not in a haze of smokey residue with black lights and love beads clattering loudly as occupants stumbled from room to room in search of familiar faces, comforting cushions, and corners in which to languish.
What we found instead were short lines, no product on display, no glass shelves, no black lights, no tie dyed shirts, and no dreadlocks. The store itself was housed on the ground floor of a large three story marble and stone monument of a building that once served as a local bank and lines that once formed inside the bank with patrons transacting business now served to funnel customers to the various teller windows where sales associates stood ready to discuss options and dispense product in specified lots as requested.
The unspoken rules of yesteryear when similar transactions were done in the shadows, in back alleys, between friends and dealers, were still in play here and we dared not look too closely into the eyes of others standing in silence in and around us while waiting our turn.
Buying and consuming marijuana has always been an underground activity for lack of better phraseology and making it legal has only marginally changed that mindset at least for now. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the nonsensical activity we were about to engage in.
After being beckoned to an open window by a now available "teller", we had an open and honest discussion with the sales associate about what specifically he had on hand, what remained in their inventory after a long and busy day at the dispensary (we arrived a little after 6 PM) , just how much of each we wanted to buy, the differences between sativa and indica strains, and what end result we thought we might like to achieve upon arriving home with our selections.
Our associate was not a stoner or a throwback to the sixties when Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix, and patchouli oil were all the rage. He was perhaps expectedly or unexpectedly clean cut, upbeat, spirited when espousing the benefits of their product, and patient but purposeful in his delivery. No question was too absurd or unworthy of a response. And we had a few.
Nancy was particularly interested in hearing more about their CBD oil only to discover that they had none on hand after a busy day. They carried other edibles with varying amounts of THC and some with none. I thought the CBD infused chocolate bar might entice her but it did not and that was that.
I settled on a few sample sized buds with names like "Facewreck", "Black Triangle Kush", "Hurricane", and "Golden Lemon #6." Some more pungent than others, and all in their own containers designed to conceal the contents and any residual odors. I can take or leave the stuff but having a stash in times of extreme dereliction or if I just want to leave the world behind I have something on hand to take me there. All aboard!
Remember, when Evan gets in the car, not a word. We'll be more than happy to tell him about our trip to the Mall but not a word about our visit to the dispensary. The less he knows the better. I was even careful not to open the vials in the car for fear that he might be on to us if he detected evens the slightest whiff of the now legal weed. And then there were the drive by's in and around Boston of our old homes and haunts which we were, of course, delighted to reminisce about.
Nancy and I ended up at Wegman's Market in Chestnut Hill Mall after dropping Evan off in Kenmore Square (one block from Fenway Park) so he could meet up with Noah for the game. As hard as we looked to find something to eat in the prepared food section we just couldn't decide. Given the lateness of the hour, the choices were few and far between and what was there did not look particularly appetizing. We were hungry enough not to be choosy but still walked away without making a selection.
She finally talked me into an ahi and quinoa Poke dish (oh oh oh twist my arm) which was right up my alley. In fact, I order just such a to-go dish quite often from a restaurant hereabouts called Ohana Kitchen. Wegman's salads were previously prepared and ready to go. It came with a sweet and sour soy sauce which added to the overall flavor quite nicely. It was just what the doctor ordered. We bought some cherries and blueberries on our way out the door.
Nancy had a small dish of something that she kept picking at and I was too busy with my own food to inquire as to what she was having to eat. If I had to go by the expression on her face thinking back on it now, I might have said that she was less than thrilled with her choice.
We also stopped by Starbuck's that was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wegman's to grab a coffee to get us through the early evening until we had to pick the boys up after the game.
All in all, it was a good night. We dropped Noah off in Central Square to get his car and we bumped around here and there on the city streets just before midnight before finding just the right exit to put us on our path going north.
We dropped Evan off at his home and we finally got to bed around 1:30. It was a bit more than we bargained for, waiting around while the game played out, but we knew what we were getting into. There is some satisfaction in knowing that everyone was going to bed in their own beds at the end of the night and everyone would be waking up to familiar surroundings. Good Night Moon.
I envisioned a gallery type set-up with buds of every conceivable type on display. The lighting would be just so and the manicured buds placed in glass vials on shelf after shelf would exude purplish and bronzed hues typical of cannabis plants harvested in its prime.
Each and every variety would be tagged and classified one way or another by its genus, assigned a descriptive label, and marked with the appropriate notations indicating THC content giving the end user some notion of its ultimate toxicity.
The shops themselves might more closely resemble a high end jewelry store than a ragtag operation run by a gaggle of hippies with dreadlocks and wearing tie dyed shirts. We rightly or wrongly expected long lines winding in and around the store of patient patrons awaiting their turn to enter the store.
These would not be your hash dens of the past enveloped as they were more often than not in a haze of smokey residue with black lights and love beads clattering loudly as occupants stumbled from room to room in search of familiar faces, comforting cushions, and corners in which to languish.
What we found instead were short lines, no product on display, no glass shelves, no black lights, no tie dyed shirts, and no dreadlocks. The store itself was housed on the ground floor of a large three story marble and stone monument of a building that once served as a local bank and lines that once formed inside the bank with patrons transacting business now served to funnel customers to the various teller windows where sales associates stood ready to discuss options and dispense product in specified lots as requested.
The unspoken rules of yesteryear when similar transactions were done in the shadows, in back alleys, between friends and dealers, were still in play here and we dared not look too closely into the eyes of others standing in silence in and around us while waiting our turn.
Buying and consuming marijuana has always been an underground activity for lack of better phraseology and making it legal has only marginally changed that mindset at least for now. I resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the nonsensical activity we were about to engage in.
After being beckoned to an open window by a now available "teller", we had an open and honest discussion with the sales associate about what specifically he had on hand, what remained in their inventory after a long and busy day at the dispensary (we arrived a little after 6 PM) , just how much of each we wanted to buy, the differences between sativa and indica strains, and what end result we thought we might like to achieve upon arriving home with our selections.
Our associate was not a stoner or a throwback to the sixties when Woodstock, Jimi Hendrix, and patchouli oil were all the rage. He was perhaps expectedly or unexpectedly clean cut, upbeat, spirited when espousing the benefits of their product, and patient but purposeful in his delivery. No question was too absurd or unworthy of a response. And we had a few.
Nancy was particularly interested in hearing more about their CBD oil only to discover that they had none on hand after a busy day. They carried other edibles with varying amounts of THC and some with none. I thought the CBD infused chocolate bar might entice her but it did not and that was that.
I settled on a few sample sized buds with names like "Facewreck", "Black Triangle Kush", "Hurricane", and "Golden Lemon #6." Some more pungent than others, and all in their own containers designed to conceal the contents and any residual odors. I can take or leave the stuff but having a stash in times of extreme dereliction or if I just want to leave the world behind I have something on hand to take me there. All aboard!
Remember, when Evan gets in the car, not a word. We'll be more than happy to tell him about our trip to the Mall but not a word about our visit to the dispensary. The less he knows the better. I was even careful not to open the vials in the car for fear that he might be on to us if he detected evens the slightest whiff of the now legal weed. And then there were the drive by's in and around Boston of our old homes and haunts which we were, of course, delighted to reminisce about.
Nancy and I ended up at Wegman's Market in Chestnut Hill Mall after dropping Evan off in Kenmore Square (one block from Fenway Park) so he could meet up with Noah for the game. As hard as we looked to find something to eat in the prepared food section we just couldn't decide. Given the lateness of the hour, the choices were few and far between and what was there did not look particularly appetizing. We were hungry enough not to be choosy but still walked away without making a selection.
She finally talked me into an ahi and quinoa Poke dish (oh oh oh twist my arm) which was right up my alley. In fact, I order just such a to-go dish quite often from a restaurant hereabouts called Ohana Kitchen. Wegman's salads were previously prepared and ready to go. It came with a sweet and sour soy sauce which added to the overall flavor quite nicely. It was just what the doctor ordered. We bought some cherries and blueberries on our way out the door.
Nancy had a small dish of something that she kept picking at and I was too busy with my own food to inquire as to what she was having to eat. If I had to go by the expression on her face thinking back on it now, I might have said that she was less than thrilled with her choice.
We also stopped by Starbuck's that was just a hop, skip, and a jump away from Wegman's to grab a coffee to get us through the early evening until we had to pick the boys up after the game.
All in all, it was a good night. We dropped Noah off in Central Square to get his car and we bumped around here and there on the city streets just before midnight before finding just the right exit to put us on our path going north.
We dropped Evan off at his home and we finally got to bed around 1:30. It was a bit more than we bargained for, waiting around while the game played out, but we knew what we were getting into. There is some satisfaction in knowing that everyone was going to bed in their own beds at the end of the night and everyone would be waking up to familiar surroundings. Good Night Moon.