From the BBC, it seems that those who wanted medicinal marijuana to push a wedge in the door have pretty much achieved their aims. Hard to see it getting any easier to obtain drugs than this.
One of the walls was taken up with a Salvador Dali poster showing swans merged with elephants: perfect for those who needed a hallucinogenic fix before they got their prescription.
A man behind the counter took my money ($100 for a consultation) and handed me a questionnaire. One section dealt with my medical condition.
According to the rules you have to be virtually at death’s door, suffering from cancer, Aids or multiple sclerosis or in chronic pain in order to qualify. The best I could come up with was anxiety. I am the anxious type after all.
Soon, the doctor appeared – a softly-spoken Vietnamese man who introduced himself as Dr Do.
He wore a white lab coat and scrubs and led me into a spartan room where he proceeded to take my pulse and blood pressure before asking precisely how long I had been anxious.
“Several years,” I told him.
“Do you suffer panic attacks?” “Not really.”
Dr Do wrote panic attacks in his notebook. We spent a few minutes shooting the breeze about Asian cuisine and he signed a prescription for medicinal marijuana, valid for a year.
And that was it. Done and dusted in less than 10 minutes.
Apparently once you have your prescription you can purchase, even from a vending machine. Mind you, the machine takes your picture, but why would you bother to fool the system when it’s so easy to mainpulate?
Much like our abortion laws really.