I fell into the craft of marijuana the same way I fell into knitting. The cool names. Blackberry Kush, Golden Goat, Northern Lights, Slate Alpaca, Kettle Black Linen Quill, Lavender Opal, I mean can you even tell the difference?* Neither could I. This is how I ended up at Farm Dispensary, questioning this androgynous human through a bullet proof glass.
This past May, Vancouver handed out its first license to a dispensary, officially stepping in to provide some sort of regulation where the federal government would not. A bill to legalize recreational marijuana will be presented at the House of Commons in the spring of 2017, but for now, all dispensaries act under the umbrella of ‘medical need’. This is not to say that you must see your doctor first. At Farm Dispensary all that is required is two pieces of ID proving that you are older than nineteen. Other places like Karuna may require a personal consultation and a membership, but the general direction is moving past a green card requirement with membership fees towards the same rules as liquor stores.
My first experience at a licensed dispensary was not what I expected. In fact I felt duped. The website for Farm depicts a breezy sit down environment where you would be surrounded by likeminded people and perhaps some indoor plants. The reality is, it’s in the center of the Downtown Eastside (DTES) and if you leave your bike locked up outside it WILL get stolen. I felt really rushed, sweaty and slightly embarrassed when I tried to explain to the person behind the thick bullet proof glass what I was looking for – which in a nut shell was, the weakest weed they got. So even though my naivety tricked me once again, I left Farm with a little baggie of Skywalker, Berryhaze, and an edible butter.
*The first three are strains of marijuana and the remainders are skeins of wool.
Photocredit:John Brinegar (Knitboy)
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