It’s been some time since marijuana was made legal in Oregon. That exact date is less momentous to me than it is to others. I’ve noticed the difference since the law went into effect. Pot stores are everywhere. If I head into a section of town I haven’t visited for a while, it seems inevitable that a marijuana business has moved in. It sure feels like pot picked the right time to become legal since the economy has picked up.

Green party headquarters.

Before & After

The old Office strip club is a pot shop now. If that’s the best we can produce for an economic upturn how can I complain? In our current internet age what tangible things need to be bought and sold that can’t be ordered from Amazon and shipped to our houses? We don’t need sales or service people so much anymore when we can figure out how to things work through YouTube how-to videos.

These days have that all or nothing feel of either pot businesses or empty storefronts which makes the symbolic green cross comforting. We all know a red cross has a strong symbolic message and meaning tied into it. Words like assistance, first aid, help and blood come to mind. The green cross seems to mean almost the same thing minus the blood. Except this time it’s pot to the rescue and it’s become a beacon of sorts, you need pot, bam, there it is behind a sometimes windowless door with a green cross insignia.

I have yet to succumb to partaking in the legal weed. Past experience has found me experiencing mild panic attacks and weird vibes along with zero understanding of the pot sharing culture. I’m also reminded of a quote from a friend who might want to be nameless. He said, “Is this stuff going to make me claw my eyes out?” Needless to say his eyes are very much intact. Of course any job I’ve wanted to do, including working at a brewery, has required a drug test. I am willing to bet that any pot consumption would cause even more typos to appear in my blog posts.

Our first foray into a pot dealership, had us talking to an excited salesperson. The enthusiasm and breadth of knowledge he had for his product was mind blowing bordering on mind-altering. He discussed strains of marijuana and their expected effects reeling off colorful and crazy names. The best type of pot for football watching? He was on it with a recommendation. It felt good (contact high?) to see this gentleman express his passion and expertise. It felt even better that all of his salesmanship has been legitimized.  Whether you would have this type of discussion with an old school dealer back in the day is beyond my knowledge and research capabilities but there seemed something reassuring about it all now that the criminal element has been taken away.

The money will be rolling in and there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with a recreational relaxation industry becoming the region’s strongest economic force. The only downside might be that I now have a scapegoat for the rash of screwed up pizza orders I’ve suffered lately.