DISPENSARY OWNER ROLLING RIGHT ALONG

My plan this weekend, not that you care at all, is to take in a bit
of the marijuana convention downtown today or Saturday, maybe take
the wife along. OK, I am going to hell.

It is, I know, just my Catholic guilt running a bit amok, which is
also why I refuse to lie and say I am going - well, um - strictly
for professional reasons.

The gathering at the Colorado Convention Center is being billed as
the largest cannabis-themed event in U.S. history. I think even
Father Charlie, God rest him, would understand.

A little disclosure: I don't smoke the stuff. It simply does not
agree with me, has all the appeal of hammering a 6-penny nail into
my right big toe.

We are talking of history here. The promoters are saying nearly
100,000 people are expected to attend, which I suspect could be just
mostly promoter-talk.

It would not surprise me. Only politicians still delude themselves
that marijuana remains an evil that must be stamped out. People will
spend $15 each to get in, inspect more than 300 booths, chat up
medical-marijuana industry representatives from all 50 states and
from overseas, and take part in a town hall meeting with government
representatives from local, state and federal levels.

I just have to go.

The place to get my feet wet, it seemed to me, was a dispensary. I
had never been in one.

Wanda James was making telephone calls and readying her wares ahead
of the convention when I walked in. She is a friend, someone I had
written of earlier, when she and her husband, Scott Durrah,
successful downtown restaurant owners, were first getting into the
medical-marijuana business.

Apothecary of Colorado, their place at 17th and Blake streets, has
to be one of swankiest in the city. It is done up and painted in
deep earth tones. Leather chairs and sofas are arranged in various
corners. Music wafts softly from ceiling speakers.

"This is where it is all headed," she says, shaking my hand, when I
tell her some of the most expensive lawyers I've had did not have a
place like this.

What I cannot see, she said, would impress me the most. It is the
security system. There are 26 cameras, she says, meaning there isn't
a square foot in here where I could not be seen.

"And that is the least of it," she said. "You would be stunned by
how fast the cops can get here."

In another large room are the foodstuffs - cookies, bars, pastries
and the like - including a large selection of olive oils and sauces.
All of it is infused with marijuana.

The final room is the marijuana bar, a large room that looks like a
very upscale cocktail lounge, its glass shelves stocked with small
jars, each containing a different strain of marijuana.

Since opening Nov. 29, she has become care giver to more than 200
people. Another 500 marijuana cardholders are members.

"It has surprised me how quickly this all has become so mainstream," she said.

It is a beautiful room, yet nothing in it matters at all to me.
Maybe that is the point of medical marijuana for the healthy, maybe
the lesson a lot of people will discover this weekend.

Wanda James grabs my hand.

"See, it's not bad," she says. "It's not scary, is it?"