For the fourth time in as many days, I steer up the steep, dusty driveway and see the same surly hounds, with ribs protruding and a dangerous glint in their eyes. I close the car door and walk briskly to the front of the house in the 100-degree heat, hoping I don’t get nipped on the heels again, as I did yesterday.
When Kevin (not his real name) answers the door with a smile on his face, I know he must have good news. Yes, he saw “the guy,” and yes, he was able to hook me up.
I’m not buying illicit narcotics–at least not by my definition, since I’m not looking for hard drugs like meth, coke, or heroin. I’m just trying to find some of the herbal medication recommended by my doctor back in Washington–which always seems to work, but isn’t recognized as medicine here in Alabama, where I’m visiting family.
After years of becoming accustomed to getting my legal medicinal cannabis from dispensaries in Washington, it feels faintly ridiculous to revert to the black market. But nausea and pain from hepatitis C are strong motivators, which get stronger every day unless I use cannabis. Dignity semi-intact, here I am looking for the remedy.
|These young sativa buds were harvested a good three weeks before their peak.|
There’s only one no-name strain to pick from, but at least it’s not the brick Mexican schwag. The cannabis is $110 an ounce. That’s less than half the typical dispensary price in Seattle, but it’s also about half the quality too.