Our leaders seem to be flummoxed and in a terrible quandary about the best location for our medical marijuana dispensaries. It occurred to me that Newburyport could solve a lot of problems by locating it at the train station depot. That’s the empty brick and sandstone edifice we somehow built on the wrong side of the tracks. It’s our monument to, “Hmmm … guess we didn’t think this all the way through.” It’s like, you know, whoever thought up the idea must have been stoned or something, which brings me to my original point. The train station would be a great place for the medical marijuana dispensary. We could call it “De Pot Depot,” or the “Panama Red Express” or some such clever railroad-related name.
As in any retail business, it’s all about location, location, location. In this case, it’s not located near anyone, which makes it a prime location. Nothing worse than seeing a line of middle-class, middle-aged baby boomers with headache prescriptions getting cranky while they wait in line for their daily dose of the Conductor’s Cannabis Crumpets.
This brings us to the next business requirement. Always have a ready market for your goods. I can’t think of a better market than a bunch of stressed-out boomers heading into the financial district every day. There is nothing better in the morning than a hemp and pumpkin muffin with rainbow sprinkles to take the edge off that stressful million-dollar deal that is teetering on the edge of falling apart. Just stop by the Doobie Depot for a muffin; by the time you get to work, everything will be cool and copacetic.
Don’t think the office wants you stoned at work? Don’t worry, it’s legal now. If your boss asks, “Why are your eyes red?” just say, “Hey man, it’s my bad back. Like uh, it’s cool dude, I got a script for it.”
Then there’s the evening crowd. All those stressed-out aging yuppies heading home to another night of insomnia with a frenetic, frazzled partner that even the best Scotch won’t cure. Soon they will all be stopping at the Reefer Railroad Pastry Emporium to buy a bag of Maui Wowie brownies for their better half. You will be able to follow the crumbs as the commuters skip all the way down the rail trail. Divorce rates will plummet and train ridership will skyrocket.
It’s a win-win all around. The state gets to rent their white elephant they call the train depot. The owners of the “Cannabis Caboose” get a prime location at the end of the train line, which is sure to draw visitors from far and wide. But most of all, the city will get a lot more visitors who will be really, really hungry.
Tom McCarty lives in Newburyport.