My first time going to the medical marijuana dispensary was even more daunting than going to the nurse to get certified for our medical marijuana ID card, unlike most of the people I grew up with in the 1960s, I had never tried marijuana. My siblings and siblings were using marijuana, and so were most of our friends, but I could not handle the odor of the stuff. I always think that if the odor of marijuana frustrated our stomach, what would the taste of it do? These feelings were still with me when I thought about going into the marijuana dispensary and I odored it even before I got into the dispensary itself. I stood between the doors that led from the small office that verified our medical marijuana ID card, and being left into the dispensary itself. I waffled back and forth about wanting to enter the dispensary. My stomach was already churning from the odor of marijuana, and I didn’t want to vomit on the floor. The young man at the desk told me I either needed to leave or enter the dispensary, because there were five people waiting outside for their turn to come in. I swallowed strenuous to calm our stomach and took a few deep breaths, which wasn’t a fine idea. 30 fifths later, I was walking into the marijuana dispensary and talking to the budtender. He answered all the questions I had, which kept our mind off our nausea. I walked out with the products the pharmacist recommended, and a feeling of relief that I had not vomited on their shiny floors.