A BIT PLAYER IN THEATER OF POT

All right, so I'm a few days late with this update on my medical
marijuana adventures. In answer to readers, no, I was not too stoned
to write about it earlier.

Nor was I under the influence when I proposed on Sunday to Jamie
McCourt, who hopes to get $487,000 a month in support from Dodgers
owner and estranged husband Frank. I simply had to pour out my heart,
and I'm still hoping to hear from Ms. McCourt.

In the meantime, let's get back to that doctor in Glendale. You may
remember that he was the one who told me that, as a gynecologist, he
didn't know a thing about bad backs. But within 10 minutes, he had
written me a recommendation for an herbal remedy to ease my pain.

That meant I could go to any dispensary for my medicine, simple as
that. But in Los Angeles, you can get light-headed trying to decide
where to go.

There's the Unique Vapor Lounge in Tujunga, Green Easy in Mid-City,
Westside Medical on Wilshire, and on and on. Some places have free
delivery. Some are open all night. The buds go by names like
Trainwreck, Purple Voodoo, Mango Og and Purple LA Confidential.

Don't like to smoke? No problem. You can get your medicine in
brownies, crackers and even tortilla chips.

Nobody knows how many dispensaries there are in L.A., but estimates
run as high as 1,000. Fourteen states allow medical marijuana, but no
other place in the nation has lost control the way we have here in
the City of Angels, where hundreds of outlets were allowed to open
during a ban while City Council members fiddled.

Now the city attorney promises a crackdown, arguing that there has to
be a whole lot of recreational use under the guise of medical need.
So, I figured, I better shop fast.

I'm actually not a user. Yeah, my back aches, but so far I haven't
turned to herbal remedies. I know, though, that there are lots of
people with far more serious medical problems, and if marijuana gives
them the best relief, good for them.

So why did I bother to get a prescription -- excuse me, I mean a
recommendation? As we get closer to a showdown, I wanted to know what
it's like out there.

First stop: Hollyweed. The name got me.

On my way into a small, two-story building, I noticed a separate
dispensary on the ground floor, with Hollyweed upstairs. Yes. Two
outlets at the same address.

I knocked on the locked door of Hollyweed and a no-nonsense voice
instructed me to slide my driver's license and marijuana
recommendation through the mail slot. It was kind of creepy. Would I
ever see my license again? Was a DEA agent inside making a copy? I
was getting paranoid and I hadn't even had a puff.

A few minutes later, a guard opened sesame. Inside, a 20-year-old,
dreadlocked gent named Charlie greeted me. He wore a T-shirt that
said "Marijuana Cures Racism," and he had me sign forms spelling out
the terms of my acceptance into a nonprofit collective run by members
for the benefit of patients. Membership does have its rewards.

Then he unlocked another door and took me into a small room with jars
of buds on display, just like in a candy shop. Charlie recommended a
strain called Indica, which he called a good muscle relaxant for back
pain. I opted for something called Chunky Munky and found myself
craving the ice cream without even lighting up. He weighed a gram and
put it into a prescription bottle, like it was Vicodin, and I handed
him a $20 "donation."

Was this really happening?

It'd make more sense, I told Charlie, to completely legalize,
regulate and tax marijuana rather than have this crazy charade we've
got now in Los Angeles. Meanwhile, billions have been spent on a drug
war that has transferred wealth to drug cartels and domestic gangs,
filling up the morgues in the process.

"The emperor has no clothes," Charlie agreed.

Councilman Ed Reyes told me he believes that despite some legitimate
need, the majority of "patients" are scammers. But it's a murky area.
Once you've said it's legal for people in pain, how do you determine
whose pain is real?

Reyes also says that at least 70% of the dispensaries are operating
illegally. He suspects that gangs or other groups are selling to
collectives, which are supposed to obtain their product only from
members who grow it for strictly medical purposes.

"Look at the volume," Reyes said, insisting there's no reason to
delay tougher enforcement. "How can you have such large volumes
flowing without an organized effort?"

Some of the dispensaries out there do look a little shady. But
Cornerstone Research Collective in Eagle Rock was chic and
professional looking, and a guy in a sport coat answered the door.

Michael Backes, a Cornerstone board member, agreed that lots of
players are gaming the system. Dispensaries ought to be required to
show where they're getting their supply and have it tested for
impurities, he said. He'd tax growers too to clear out the riffraff,
and he'd like for the California Medical Board to clamp down on
doctors who write recommendations with their eyes closed.

Speaking of recommendations, I was told that L.A. Organic Pharmacy on
Melrose is a popular herb dispensary, so I decided to check it out.
While waiting for service, I was tempted by Purple Diesel, White
Widow and Afgani Kush, but I finally settled on a gram of Skywalker,
which was recommended for back pain.

But wait a minute. Was it the marijuana dust in the air, or were all
the employees speaking Russian?

Sasha Churprovsky took me into a back room and said in a heavy accent
that he was in heating and air conditioning until a few years ago,
when someone suggested a career change. Now he's worried about the
threat of a crackdown by L.A. City Atty. Carmen Trutanich, who
reminds Churprovsky of another iron-fisted ruler.

"He's like Joseph Stalin!"

I noticed as we spoke that his imposing security guard was moving
pillowcase-sized bags of weed out of a locked storage room, so I
asked where all that product comes from.

Someone grows it for medicinal use, Churprovsky said, and ends up
with some extra. So it gets donated to his collective, and for
hundreds of members, the pain just melts away.

Beautiful. With a system like that, who needs healthcare reform?