I step out of the car, shut the door, and hit the lock button. The sun is just starting to go down. For some reason my heart always start beating faster when I get to this point. Maybe it is because I still haven’t gotten used to this being okay. Sometimes it is so hard for me to believe that this is my life. This is one of those moments. Heart pounding, I take a deep breath and open the door. I am immediately met by bright light and white walls with posters. The room is narrow and somewhat long. On my right is a long row of brown leather chairs, every one of them in use. The wall across from the chairs and to my left has two check-in windows and two doors. I walk up to the closest window and I am met by a young blonde woman. She is pretty and sweet as she checks my I.D. and tells me the wait time. It will be fifteen minutes.
I tell her thank you and find an empty place to stand along the wall. The small crowded room makes me uncomfortable. I am so used to this being a private matter. It is hard for me to wrap my head around even though I have lived here for two weeks already. I pull out my phone and try to look busy as I wait. I am in the middle of checking social media when I hear my name called. My heart leaps with excitement. Now, this is the part I love. I try to hide a smile as I walk towards that reads “Recreational.” I turn the knob and open the door. My nostrils fill as breath in the sweet aroma. Oh man, I could smell this shit all day. I walk further into the room. This room is rectangular much like the one u was just in. The wall on my left is empty except for posters. On my right, however, is the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever had the pleasure of feasting on: The Recreational Marijuana Dispensary. Yes.
The entire wall home of one long counter which turns at the far end and makes an L shape, meeting with the wall on my left. Each counter is glass and houses glass cookie jars full of the sweetest Green. I swear I can feel myself salivate. A young brunette woman walks up to me asks what I am looking for. I love her job. They are called "budtenders" and I think that is just fantastic. I tell her I am looking for a Sativa and an Indica. Before I moved here I had never heard of either one of these terms. Where I lived before I moved here, weed was just weed. Now, however, I get to choose between a nice head high (Sativa), a couch locking body high (Indica) and a hybrid of the two. Beyond that I get to choose from a variety of strands and qualities. As usual, I choose to get seven grams split between a mid-grade Sativa and a mid-grade Indica. I have found that I like to maintain a nice head high during the day and then a lovely body high at night. The budtender pulls out two glass cookie jars and opens each of them for me to smell. There are no words to describe the ecstasy contained inside these jars. My nostrils quiver. The budtender pulls out two black medicine bottles and begins to weigh out 3.5 grams of each strain of weed. As I watch her pick through the jars, she seems to move in slow motion. Her hands glide over each beautiful, sugar coated, green, robust bud. I am mesmerized.
Once she finished finding the best buds in the jar, she sends me to the register to pay. I tell her thank you and take a few steps to my left. Behind a black computer screen sits a smiling man who looks to be in his early 20s. Everyone here is always so nice. They are always smiling. Of course, I would be too of I got to spend so much of my time in this room with this bud. He checks my idea again and tells me my total. When the transaction is complete, he places the two black bottles into a white bag with the word "Medicine" written on it and sends me on my way. I truly am in heaven.