The green cross of the pot shop on Pico Boulevard shines like a beacon behind the bars on a wooden doorway. At the edge of what’s now being called South Park by developers, this section of downtown, in the shadow of brand-new luxury apartment towers and on the edge of historic South-Central, is home to a bunch of these shops.
But there are no happy cameras clicking here today like up in the Bay.
In fact, the sign in black marker on white paper above the small window in the entryway clearly says: “No Cameras!” Right next to it, in the same marker: “No Hoodies, No Backpacks, No Phones, No Hats.”
With that last one, there is some flexibility: I get through by turning my hat around.
The small, papered-up window slides open. I hand my ID at the front, waiting to have to turn in a medical rec. Larisa, the receptionist looks down and starts typing. The security guard squeezes his head in from the back: “Gonna need your backpack though.”