Far be it from me to take a potshot at city council for approving appropriately mellow regulations for marijuana dispensaries; to the contrary, I’m glad that our friendly local medical marijuana dealers won’t have to take a hit.
As a Westside resident, I’ve watched the once-darkened storefronts along Colorado Avenue light up as players in the budding new industry move in and grow their businesses. Not all have succeeded in moving to a higher level, but many seem to be thriving.
They’re quiet and unobtrusive – as one who survived the 60s, I often wonder what’s going on behind those locked doors. Are they huffin’ away on a giant bong, listening to Hendrix and staring blankly at lava lamps or black-lit Grateful Dead posters?
I doubt it. The folks I’ve met are just business people, like all the other merchants along the Ave. They’re busy every day trying to drive sales, figure out advertising budgets, calculate margins, and cut expenses. Just as the owners and employees of liquor don’t spend their days in drunken revelry, the now officially legal medical marijuana vendors stay clean, sober, and alert to opportunity.
Too bad. Now that Colorado voters have legalized marijuana for anyone who’s willing to cough up $100 for a license to toke, the outlaw romance is gone. Demon weed? It’s right up there with aspirin, Coors Light, and box wine.
No more Cheech & Chong, no more stoned Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider, no more furtive cash sales in parking lots, no more paranoia when the cops drive by. I’ll miss it, I guess, since it was part of my long-vanished youth.