The security guard is young, maybe mid-twenties, tall and wiry and armed. He’s friendly. He asks, “Good morning, sir. Recreational? Can I see your ID?” and directs me to the left, into a zig-zag of retractable belt barriers terminating at a long, well-lit counter
Along the wall behind the counter is a grid of peg hooks not unlike those suspending Combos and corn nuts in roadside convenience stores. The bags here are transparent, their contents green, white-labelled with names like Blue Dream, Ghost Train Haze, Kool-Aid Kush and Industrial Paint. There are orange and red liquids in clear bottles; there are foodstuffs with names like Fantastic Brownie and Cheeba Chews; there are t-shirts, hoodies and beanies monogrammed with the Medicine Man logo Read more…
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