I’m probably one of only a few people who went through college and grad school in the 1970s without ever smoking pot. I’ll probably be invited to be a keynote speaker someday.
It’s not like I was vice adverse. My dorm room had plenty of illicitness within. Just not pot.
So a lot of the insider-jokes and terminology on the menu at Chēba Hut, a marijuana-themed sandwich shop, might be lost on me. (Most, but not all – some of the potheads on my floor were my best friends, so I experienced it secondhand, so to speak.)