Marijuana vs. Viagra - Which is easier to get?

Note: I researched and wrote this article for Zug.com, before they evolved into mediashower.com. This article is true and accurate, except for some joking, which should be obvious.

I don't take a lot of medicine, because I don't believe in it. Those tiny pills, what could possibly be in there? Wishes? Angels? Did Willy Wonka cram an entire meal into a tiny pill? No. That's impossible. Medicine is for suckers.

Recently, however, the medical marijuana industry has blossomed in California. We've now got weed-packed dispensaries selling bags of ganga to stoners of all ages. Marijuana, it turns out, is not only a very effective party drug, it can also be used to treat illness. In regards to marijuana, California law has been relaxed since 1996, but there are still a slate of dispensing rules. State regulations require that weed buyers have a Certificate to use medical Marijuana, a certificate issued by an actual medical doctor.

I don't smoke pot, but I've wondered, "How hard is it to get one of those medical marijuana cards?". This question has sat unanswered for years, right next to a similar question, "How hard is it to get Viagra?"

In this article I answer both questions and compare the answers: Which is harder to get in California, medical marijuana, or Viagra?

Finally, a bounty of holiday vacation days moved this project onto the front burner. It was time to set this plan into action.

Step 1. Getting the Viagra Appointment
First up, Viagra. I called Kaiser and asked for an appointment regarding sexual impotence. Thousands of Viagra commercials had urged me to take this step. Ask your doctor! Ask your doctor! Get the horses out of the trailer and pull your truck out of the mud! This is the age of knowing how to make things happen™! Come on!

The boner police at Kaiser hospital let me know it wasn't going to be that easy. Before I could schedule an appointment with a urologist, I'd have to take a class. Impotence class! In a classroom full of people! Terrific! Why share my humiliating deficiency with one M.D. when I can share it with a whole class?

The two-hour class at Kaiser was only given one time per month.

She gave me the room number and a few details, "Unfortunately women are not allowed in the class, so your partner will have to wait outside if she is with you. Be sure to arrive 15 minutes early. They may lock the doors at 6 p.m."

I marked my calendar.

Step 2. Seeing a Marijuana Doctor
The medical pot industry in California is broken up into three separate wings: Marijuana doctors, marijuana dispensaries, and head shops. The doctors issue marijuana recommendations, the dispensaries sell the marijuana, and the head shops sell the pipes, bongs and other paraphanalia vital to getting high/cured.

Although a regular doctor in California can give a recommendation for marijuana, it is a rare event. I have a feeling that regular doctors consider it akin to approving the use of gin. To fill this need, a legion of doctors have set up special clinics where patients can be examined expressly for the purpose of being granted approval for marijuana. They advertise online and in our local weekly entertainment newpaper, the Sacramento News and Review. Most of the pot clinics I researched were charging $45 for an evaluation, but I found one with a $25 special: Confidential 420 in North Sacramento.

Their website offered a place to book an appointment... a NINE MINUTE appointment. I booked one for that very day.

I knew I'd need a serious medical reason for to be approved for such a powerful drug. I had to ready for his questions, a patient frustrated by the lack of other medicines on the market. Nor did I want to screw up and accidentally tell the doctor that I had leprosy or something. I needed the perfect ailment, quick! There was no time, so I started to get really freaked out. Suddenly it hit me: ANXIETY.

My appointment was at noon, in an odd, unmarked three-room office building sharing a lot with a battery recycling yard and the old city incinerator. I arrived a minute early for my appointment, but a guy in a hat came out and met me halfway to the door. His name was Paul.

Paul explained that they had exhausted their ink cartridge, and would have to push my appointment back an hour while they got a new one.

Like most medical practices, the operation was a little scattered. It turned out that I was visiting on their very first day open! When I returned an hour later, there were two other patients waiting. Signing in, I filled out a questionnaire with 17 checkboxes for medical conditions: ? insomnia, ? AIDS, ? cancer, ? anxiety, ? burns etc. I checked "anxiety". The next question asked how long I had been using marijuana, with options from one month to twenty years. There was no option for "never", so I left the question blank.

When I was finished, I was escorted into the private evaluation room. It was so private that even the doctor was in a different room. Paul explained that the evaluation would take place over Skype teleconference, and that the doctor was actually 400 miles away, in Los Angeles, California.

Awesome! Nine minute doctor appointments and my first experience with telemedicine! Welcome to the future!

The doctor appeared onscreen and Paul introduced us. "This is Rob Cockerham, he is suffering from anxiety."

Paul left us alone and the doctor started probing me with a battery of pointed questions, designed to weed out, shake out, hash out, screen out, reveal the recreational users.

"How are you doing?", the doctor began.

“Fine”, I replied.

"How long have you been using marijuana?" (Again with this question. Doesn't anyone come in here before they start smoking pot?)

Due to my intense anxiety, I bent the truth, "Many years, on and off. Most recently for about a month."

"Three months?" Asked the doctor.

“No, no, one month.”

"Do you find that using marijuana provides relief from your anxiety?"

“Oh yes. Definitely.”

"Well.... that's great. I find that you are approved."

“What's that again?”

“You are approved.”

“Thank you.”

After an awkward silence, I hit "end call" and exited the private evaluation room.

It took two minutes. In three more minutes I was out the door, holding a laminated copy of my Physician's Statement of Approval for the Use of Marijuana.

What was this document? It was like a fake ID in the hands of a minor: Good enough for the people selling to you, but not something you'd ever want to show a judge. Total cost: $25. My anxiety was completely relieved.

Step 3. The Impotence Class at Kaiser
A few days later, I rushed home from work to attend the impotence class. I wanted to make sure I had enough time to get my tuxedo on, because I might as well look impotent. I braced myself for a long, awkward meeting in a room full of old men that didn't want to make eye-contact with one another.

The class was in Room 2 in the basement of the hospital, the same room as the vasectomy class from last year. That's right, I only go to the hospital for my genitals.

Inside the room were 16 men, mostly in their 50s. A few were younger, who I regarded as drug-resale entrepreneurs or fellow investigative reporters. Everyone was waiting for the class to begin, occupying themselves. One guy had a Kindle, another guy was wearing suspenders. I guess he had a problem keeping his pants up.

This was not the place for small talk. I quietly thanked God that I didn't know anyone in the room.

At 6:06 pm, no instructor had arrived and I was itching to leave. I guess my fake moustache disguise was wool.

At 6:08, a dozen men and two women entered from behind an accordion barrier and sat down at the far table. They had been waiting in the other part of the divided room, but joined us when they realized we were all there for the same class, which wasn't happening. This broke the ice and everyone started complaining about the lack of a teacher. One guy in particular made it clear that no women were supposed to be in the class, and then made a special effort to tell us that he didn't personally care.

I didn't mind having the women there, as long as they weren't sexy enough to blow my story about impotence.

Time passed. No one showed up. No one knew anything.

After 10 more minutes of waiting, and a call to the hospital operator, it became obvious that no one was going to show up to teach the class. There was cursing.

We filed out into the parking lot, where I realized that impotence touched men from all socioeconomic backgrounds: One of the men drove a Hummer, another piloted a Cummings diesel truck. A third drove a Ford Probe. These were the only penis-related car names I could come up with.

At this point, on the drive home, I was starting to think that it was going to be harder to get Viagra than it was to get marijuana. Definitely.

Step 4. The Urologist at Kaiser

The next morning I awoke refreshed, ready to do whatever I could to reach a doctor and get the Viagra. I called the Urology Department and told them what had happened. Straightaway I got an appointment with a doctor, no class required! A bit later I got an apology from the gal in charge of the classes, and was told that the class would now take place tomorrow night.

She also let me know what I could expect to happen after the class, and that if the pills didn't work, I could try injections, which she assured me, worked very well.

I hope I never have to try injections.

A few hours after that I got a call from another hospital administrator, letting me know that the rescheduled class would be in one week, in a different room. So, to answer your question, yes, it is possible to have a 28-person clusterfuck without a single boner.

I skipped the class and just went to the doctor's appointment.

The appointment was in the morning. I was nervous about what kind of questions the doctor would ask. I had mentioned to a nurse friend that I was thinking of using the old "Anxiety" symptom from my weed examination, but she warned me against it.

"They'll just prescribe you an anti-anxiety medication."

I surely didn't want that. I needed a better story.

When I arrived, I was handed some paperwork. I handed it in and paid $45 for the visit. Already this quest for Viagra had cost twice as much as the price of a marijuana certification.

In the waiting room, I sat down with a People magazine. As a precaution against waiting room boners, I had painstakingly removed all of the sexy advertisements from the magazine pages. It looked like I was reading a slice of swiss cheese.

You guys don't get waiting room boners?

I was called back by a nurse, who checked my blood pressure. When she announced that my pulse was a little high, I freaked out and ripped the blood pressure sleeve off of my arm.

"You're a cop!"

No, no I didn't. I played it cool.

I only waited for the doctor for another minute. The doctor actually entered the room with me for the examination! Just like in ye olde times! The doctor didn't screw around. He asked me why I was there, and when I told him I was trying to obtain better erections, he fired back "What do you mean "better" erections"?

This wasn't going well, so I waved my hand and started from the beginning: "I had started having problems getting an erection..."

"Can you quantify the problem? How often do you have an unacceptable erection?"

"Uh.. well.." I stammered.

He wanted an on-base percentage.

"Like do you have a problem 2 out of 10 times, or 7 out of 10 times..."

Jesus! Was this guy was trying to bust my balls so they would match my busted penis? Actually, I knew what to say. "Well, I tried three times, and it didn't happen. Then I waited a loooong time before I tried again...."

That's exactly what he needed to hear. "Oooh Kay" he replied.

But I didn't stop.

"My wife went to Europe for three months this summer, and when she got back... uh, it didn't work".

Now he was my psychologist.

"So she came back?" He queried.

"Yes, that's right. She came back after three months and now I'm having trouble with sex."

"Oh, so she didn't leave you , she just went to Europe and came back?"

"Yes, she just went for work. She came back, but it hasn't worked the same."

He asked if I "got into any bad habits" while my wife was out of town.

"No...” I paused. “Ooh! I bought a 3D TV... Do you think that could have anything to do with it?"

He considered that for a moment. "It is possible, what are you watching in 3D?"

"Uh, Avatar… and animated movies."

He countered "Animal Planet?"

I said no.

"Maybe you are more interested in 3D than E.D. ”

Nice one doc! We both cracked up at that.

He motioned for me to undo my belt. "I'll take a look."

I actually thought I might get away with a prescription without dropping my pants. No such luck.

He checked my testicles, penis and a couple spots on my pubic bone. "Cough".

I guess nothing was amiss because he motioned for me to zip it back up.

After that 40-second exam, he let me know that he was going to have me try Levitra. Yes! Success!

He cautioned me that I should start with half of a pill, and that I could increase that dose when I had a better idea of what to expect. He instructed me to take it about an hour before having sex, and that I shouldn't take Levitra with wine or grapefruit juice. Grapefruit juice can apparently produce the uncontrollable boner situation.

I asked the doctor if that could really happen. He seemed as skeptical as I was. "I don't know" was his answer.

He stripped off his gloves and told me that the pharmacy was kind of busy on Monday mornings, and that it would probably take a while to fill it if I wanted the pills today.

Oh yeah! I wanted them today!

We left the examination room and I was a smiling like an idiot. It worked. A fifteen minute doctor's visit had yielded the desired prescription. Achievement unlocked.

I pressed the B1 button in the elevator for the basement pharmacy. It wouldn't go down.

The pharmacy visit went a little less well. My insurance plan had a 50% payment schedule for erectile deficiency drugs, and they preferred to surprise me with the price: $122.30 for a bottle of 20. Damn! That's more than the hooker!

Getting this bottle of Levitra had cost a total of $167.30. This was more than I had expected, but it wasn't enough to darken my mood. I was victorious!

Getting Viagra (ok, actually Levitra) had been a long journey. Would my quest for medical marijuana be as arduous?

Step 5. The Marijuana Dispensary
I wasn't sure what to expect from a marijuana dispensary, other than assuming that everyone who worked there would be a stoner. Due to a recent federal crackdown, city officials have quit issuing operating permits, fearing that they themselves will be the subject of legal action. It seems ridiculous that our own city council would be threatened with legal action, but it happens.

El Camino Wellness was either exempt or bold enough to refute the federal warnings. I appreciated their moxie and wanted to give them my business. Also, they were open til 9 p.m.

In the past few days, I'd knocked on the doors of three shuttered marijuana dispensaries, so I wasn't surprised when I couldn't find the door to this one. On my second pass, I realized it was co-occupying, or had taken over a building under a giant Asian "Kim's Pottery" sign. A security guard watched over the enclosed parking lot.

Inside the building stood a second security guard and a metal-detecting gateway. This place was Fort Chronic.

A membership counter sat just inside the door. I had to become a member to buy weed here. Membership was free, but I had to read their Standards of Behavior guidelines, fill out a membership form and sign a waiver. They looked over my medical marijuana credentials and checked a website for verification.

The membership packet alone was worth the price of admission. It was a 27-page tome on their laboratory analysis program, holistic services and legal advice.

Once I was signed up, I was free to enter the main room. It. Was. Epic. Tragically, photography was not allowed.

Marijuana buds, oil, tincture, cookies, hash, kief, butter, honey and sprouted plants (clones). Everything was beautifully presented on top of a marble countertop. It was like a Starbucks or an agricultural display at the State Fair: Four Hundred and Twenty uses for Marijuana.

This place was like BevMo for weed, a sativa superstore and I was the squarest square that had ever walked through the doors.

I studied the twin flat screen monitors which detailed the prices. There were about 20 types of marijuana buds available, in gram, eighth ounce, quarter ounce and full ounce quantities. Prices ranged from $20 to $55 an eighth-ounce ($2,560 - $7,040 per pound.)

I was overwhelmed.

David the budtender tried to help. "Can we ask what you are medicating for?" He paused. "You can be as precise or vague as you want."

"We'll, lately I've been fighting nausea", I began. "It is worst when I'm watching my 3D TV".

David began to lay out a detailed description of Indica and Sativa, two differing qualities of marijuana, and their effects on the human brain. Mostly I wasn't listening, I was trying to memorize as many hilarious pot brand names as possible. Names like Purple Urkel , Super Lemon Haze , and Blackberry Kush. I love these. They were like the brand names of homemade vodka brands under the counter at a ghetto liquor store in Kiev .

I finally settled on a brand in my price range. "I think I'd like an eighth of Afghan Diesel ".

David lept into action. He grabbed the display jar and placed it in front of me, accompanied by a second jar, the slightly more expensive OG-47. I couldn't believe it. This guy was trying to upsell me!

I stuck with the Diesel. He replaced the glass display jars and grabbed some pre-packed Mylar bags from behind the counter. Each was marked Afghan Diesel, and each was an eighth-ounce, but he was giving me a choice of envelopes to choose from. It was like picking my own apples from the pile at the grocery store.

I picked my bag, paid $44.70 (including 11.75% tax) and walked out with a few clumps of fragrant marijuana flowers.

Mission accomplished.

Summary
Marijuana wins.

Getting medical marijuana in California was strikingly easy. First, I found an evaluation clinic. They are usually $45, but I found one having a sale. My evaluation was $25. The next step was actually buying weed, which was $44 for Afghan Diesel and $10 in real diesel to find a dispensary which was still open.

Viagra loses.

To get Viagra, the unexpected cockblock was that I had to attend a Kaiser hospital impotence class. The class was free, but it definitely separates who is serious about getting Viagra and those who just want to give it a shot. Getting Viagra also meant spending $45 to see a Urologist, and I had to drop my pants and pay another $122 for 20 pills of Levitra.

My adventure had been a success! I'd jumped the hurdles and payed out cash at every step, but my quest was done. I had secured two of the most desirable medications available in California, and I had a pretty good idea of what to do with my weekend.