I walked into Ketama and immediately went blind and started sweating, and I hadn't even bought anything yet.
That's because of how damn dark and H-O-T the place was. It took my eyes a little while to adjust, but when they did, I found myself in a small room with a small mini-bar straight ahead. It's the kind of home "bar" people put in their basement rec room in a corner. Behind the bar was the counter person, and seated around the bar facing him were 2 guys. Before approaching I wisely decided to sit and catch my breath. The place is sweltering, literally, and sweat ran uncomfortably down my face. Surely this room sits atop some massive, heat generating industrial age machine on the floor below it, I thought. It's not even that hot outside.
Peering around and seeing no artificial light at all, I realized that once your eyes adjusted, you could see the room OK, but I still wondered how well I'd be able to see the medicine they sold. Directly across from where I sat, a chalkboard held the name and price of what appeared to be their only offering: "Peak 19, $60 eighth oz".
I sat there for another 15 minutes, trying to work up the courage to approach The Bar. After all, it was already occupied by 2 young men at least half my age, who sat closely facing the counter man, clearly friends of his who sat talking and joking with him.
I quickly sized up the situation. In order to get medicine here, I would have to approach the counter, and ask about my medical need to an audience of these particular people. Since we'd all be facing each other, that is.
Do I go up there boldly, faking a cocky confidence as if I'm just as cool as the manager's friends, and demand to know if that strain of cannabis might be useful for my personal medical condition? ("You got a problem with that?")? Or maybe I could approach sheepishly...I'll channel Woody Allen...."Excuse me....eh....I don't want to interrupt and bother such a fine group of young hipsters as yourselves, but, uh, can we uh, talk about my sickness?"
I tried to decide on an approach, tried to work up the courage, but I couldn't. Besides, they only had one strain, and by my calculations they were actually charging $15 more per eighth than at several other nearby clubs I am familiar with. In addition, I had to admit that I didn't feel noticed, nevermind welcomed, by anyone there.
So I left.
My sincere advice to Ketama owner and staff:
Please make your establishment friendly to actual medical patients, not just to your homies....unless you're actually just putting up with us pesky patients, so your private weed party can stay open.
Just bein' real, brother. read more