Marijuana is so sixties and seventies, we said a few years ago, after voters in our state passed an initiative to permit the sale of it in authorized stores. Who in our generation would be interested at this point in our lives?
A good question, which we tried to answer a few weeks ago. Our story started with my husband and leg pain. A friend of his offered him a chance to try his marijuana cream, which came from California. “I felt a nice buzz after I rubbed it in.”
“Hey, I have shoulder pain,” I said. “I could use some of that too. Let’s investigate.”
We decided against visiting the nearby weed store with a Charles Manson-lookalike swinging a sign out front. We were curious about why anyone would think using him would be a good way to help their brand, but thought that perhaps he brought in just the customers they’re looking for, which would not be senior citizens like us.
We checked on-line and found another store also close to home with a classy website. We couldn’t find the exact product that came from California, but it looked like there were several options. The “menu” included categories of “flower,” topical,” “concentrate” and “edible.” I’d seen many an ad for the store in the weekly community newspaper but the ad never mentioned what the store sold. “Let’s try that one,” I said. “The owners are way more subtle.”
We went straight there. We weren’t the only clients that afternoon. The others were our age or older.
That day was the store’s first of selling medical and recreational marijuana in two separate spaces on the property, each with its own entrance. Picture a pharmacy countertop with dividers that allow the pharmacist to have semi-private conversations with the patient, and you’ll be able to envision the space. We showed our “consultant” a photo of the product from California. He said they were only allowed to carry products grown in Washington, but had items with similar ingredients. He began with a lecture on THC and CBD (I figure if you’re really interested you can look into it yourself) and ended by showing us two gels that were allegedly effective in reducing muscle pain, inflammation, and some other ailments.
We bought two — cash only accepted — for about $50 and rushed home to apply our new medicine to our sore spots.
Next day’s conversation: “Did you notice any improvement?” “No.” “Did you?” No.” “How about the buzz you felt yesterday?” “No.”
That’s when my husband remembered one teeny difference between the first and second times he tried the product. “My friend gave me a coffee beer right after I applied the lotion.”
Coffee beer? Yep. It’s a new craft brew.
“You don’t suppose the caffeine, which you don’t normally drink, had anything to do with the buzz you felt?”
We’ve returned to using arnica gel. It’s cheaper.