Seth Rogan knows what he is doing at The Hunny Pot Toronto. It took awhile, to realize that in Toronto much like Colorado no matter what name they write on the canister, it’s all the same strain of low grade, picked to early, not cured generic sativa. It is almost easy to walk right past the “hunny pot,” on a Saturday afternoon. Queen Street is mobbed with people on the sidewalk, cars and trolleys on the street, and bikes. Outdoor cafes, retail of every kind, live music, bars, parks, and restaurants where people know the name of the chef are built into the ground floor of 200
Easy, until you walk directly into The Hunny Pot Toronto and the armed guard who doesn’t give an inch. What’s that. A person in my group said as she pointed at the big gold letters on the wall and walked directly into the line of people that stretched down the street. No one complained. After a short wait we were asked for ID and invited inside.
Once inside the exterior door we entered a darker room and a line cue maze. It moved quickly. From the line we could not see anything. As it became our turn we were informed that we be assigned a budtender. She will accompany us the entire time, answer questions, make recommendations.
He lifted the velvet rope and in we went. We entered on the second floor of four. Up or down? To our left was a tremendous map of Canada with dots all over it. Each dot represented another Hunny Pot dispensary.
On the ground floor was cashiers and what looked like consumption devices. Up we went.
Just like any other dispensary, at The Hunny Pot Toronto different strains were laid out in glass jars. As usual the bud tender, whilst wielding an iPad starting reciting strain names. I wasn’t sure if she knew they didn’t mean anything, but she certainly even consider that we knew. A quick look around revealed, once again that everything looked exactly the same. No matter what sticker was on the outside it was all the same thing. Different than what is in Colorado dispensary. That’s green and black. At the Hunny Pot though as one probably should have guessed. It was all the same shade of amber.
One looked very different. I asked for it. The bud tender pecked away at her iPad. Then left. By the time she came caught up with us we had gravitated to the fourth floor. More of the same. “Do you sell Seth Rogan’s brand?”, someone asked. Yeah. She said.
It comes in a red box with a duty stamp affixed to the outside. As elegant as any other purchase made throughout the dAy. We had no way of knowing. It was cheap. The group had high hopes. Mr. Rogan’s reputation preceded him. The line moved quick. It was cheap.
Later on it seemed so obvious that Seth Rogan knows what he is doing.