My First Smartshop

Background research is dandy, but no substitute for first-hand observation. So, taking my investigative legwork seriously, I set out to educate myself about smartshops and coffeeshops.

First stop: the Breda town center, for the highly-sophisticated, textbook research methodology reason that I was in the neighborhood anyway. I found a smartshop and a coffeeshop located - conveniently and efficiently, for my purposes - right next door to each other. It took a little doing, but I got up the nerve to walk right on into the smartshop.

It did take some nerve because, in general, I avoid doing things to call attention to myself in public. I do not like to stand out in a crowd, make a scene, or otherwise make my existence known if there's any way to avoid it. In fact, I'd just walk around invisible most of the time if I could find a way to do it. So one of my hurdles, besides any reticence I might have been feeling about just walking into one of Satan's Drug Dens, was the problem of being inconspicuous.

I stopped dyeing my hair a couple of years ago.

I share this personal fact because, to fully appreciate the utter impossibility of my "blending in" in the smartshop/coffeeshop environment, you need to realize that I started dyeing my hair at the age of 27, and I want to remind you that it has since become almost entirely gray. A nice, bright, silver-white gray, as friends kindly remark, not that dull, drab shade you sometimes see. I am still self-conscious about my gray hair, of which I am not very fond, not least because as soon as people spot that much gray that automatically add about 20 years to your age. That's people, as in just your average law-abiding citizen. Which is not perhaps exactly the demographic owning and operating the establishments in question. The staffperson in the Sativa Smartshop (strangely absent from the Amsterdam Coffeeshop Directory; guys, it's time to update your site!) was a guy in his 20's or 30's. It is a Known Scientific Fact that people, particularly male people, in that age range cannot discriminate between a 50-year old and a 75-year old.  Gray = Old. I became acutely aware that I'd neglected, in my background research, to look into the demographics of smartshop clientele.

Nevertheless, I casually browsed the contents of the shelves and cabinets as though I knew what the hell I was looking at, which, in many cases, I did not.  But damned if I was going to go around pointing and asking "what is this?" when I was providing the youngster behind the counter enough comic relief already.

I am a college graduate, so I did not need a guidebook or personal assistance to recognize the many colorful hookahs, bongs, pipes of various sizes in various materials, and incense in stock. Then there were various sprays, drops, and capsules designed to cover the smell of ambient smoke, correct red eyes, and enhance energy, memory, sexual function, and breast size(?). The stock also included preparations to facilitate growing one's very own herb garden, as well as pertinent literature. And seeds. Lots and lots of little clear, round, plastic seed-containing bubbles centered in cardboard squares describing the contents.

From what I'd seen online, I figured smartshops did not sell marijuana, but the closer I got to the back counter, the more confused I became (and no, there was no second-hand smoke to blame it on). Obviously, the seeds were for pot, the paraphernalia was for pot, and there were two big lollypop jars on the counter full of hash and cannabis lollypops (on closer examination, it turns out they were actually hash and cannabis-flavored lollypops. oh yum.). So I asked the staffperson whether they sold marijuana, and he said no, I'd have to go to the coffeeshop next door for that. So I picked up a few free seed catalogs on my way out and headed next door to the Fly-N-Hy Coffeeshop.

Next in the series: Onward and Upward