MOORHEAD — I don’t know what I expected walking into the Waabigwan Mashkiki cannabis shop on Highway 10, but it wasn’t this.

Maybe more burnouts. Long-haired hippies. Janis Joplin lookalikes. Willie Nelson himself. Reefer Madness. A Taco Bell kiosk. Dirtiness. Grunge.

You know, all the weed cliches on which a Midwest nerd was raised.

Nope. None of that.

It seemed more like a jewelry shop at the mall. Clean, quiet, professional, most of the merchandise behind glass.

The merchandise included things like a prerolled cigarette of Purple Alien Breath strain marijuana (1 gram, 23.2% THC) for $12. Or a Lemon OG Haze preroll (1 gram, 24.9% THC) for $14. A 3.5-gram package of Buttery Nuttery Blintz strain buds (19.2% THC) is $45. A 3.5-gram pack of Blu Wabooz buds (23.5% THC) is $50.

I’ve been told by some in Fargo-Moorhead that these prices are high, but will come down when other non-Native American dispensaries are allowed to open. Competition, you see.

There are bongs behind the glass for $52, bowls priced at $27 or $32.

Personal shopping attendants — “budtenders,” they are called — were polite, well-dressed and carried tablets on which they could look up products and take orders.

My budtender, assigned to me after a brief wait in line and a few minutes standing around a waiting area until my assigned number was called, was Basil.

“Number 128?” he said, glancing at his tablet.

“That’s me,” I said.

He swung open a gate to let me into the merchandise area.

“I’m Basil,” he said, sticking out his hand to shake.

“I’m Mike. I’m just here to check things out and not buy anything.”

I’m assuming this isn’t the way you buy pot from a dealer in states where recreational marijuana isn’t legal. Or maybe it is. Maybe there are smiles and handshakes. No idea. Not my area of expertise.

Full disclosure: I have never smoked marijuana.

Despite five years of college, plenty of parties before, during and after college, friends who partook and partake, a job for four decades in a profession known for employing people who enjoy various vices (at least in the old days) … I, like Bill Clinton and unlike Barack Obama, never inhaled.

Beer? By the gallon. Booze? Two fingers, please. Cigarettes? Tried ’em. Disgusting. Cigars? Less disgusting, but still. Chewing tobacco? Was regrettably trying to get into it as a teenaged baseball player until there was an incident. Never again.

But weed? Offered, but not accepted. Never interested. Don’t know why.

One distinct possibility is that I’m a nerd.

So when the White Earth Band opened the first off-reservation recreational cannabis dispensary in Minnesota last weekend, in the old J.L. Beers building next to the Fryn’ Pan, there was curiosity to see what all the hullabaloo was about. I live in Moorhead. Every time I drove past the dispensary, there was a line curling around the little building. What gives?

Answer: Not much.

I dropped in Tuesday after getting some birdseed at nearby Runnings (nerd!). There was no line so I walked in the front door, where a security guard (I knew him) checked my ID. From there it was to the front desk, where a pleasant young lady again checked my ID to take down my name and assign me a waiting number. A few moments later, Basil called my number.

There really isn’t much to the store, honestly. There are display monitors on which you can check the products and their prices (
everything is on the store’s website, too.
) There’s a glass display case along one wall that has bongs, bowls, pipes and dry herb vaporizers as well some cannabis product.

On the other wall a display case of THC-infused beverages and racks of Waabigwan Mashkiki merchandise, mostly T-shirts and sweatshirts.

A few cashiers stood behind a counter waiting for customers to check out.

Basil’s job was to guide me through the small shopping area where there was a handful of other shoppers, answering questions and ordering whatever I wanted on his tablet so the cashiers could grab the products and ring them up. He’s a salesman, connecting customers “to the products that will work best for them,” he said.

It’s no different than selling a car or any other product, Basil said. Just trying to find the best fit for the customer.

Nice kid. He’s 27 years old and very enthusiastic about his new job and the Waabigwan Mashkiki business. Basil said he and the other employees trained for six months to be ready for last weekend’s grand opening. He said the tribe treats him much better than did his previous employers, where he did assembly and manufacturing work.

“They treat you like you’re a human being, which wasn’t always my experience,” Basil said.

Cool.

As I was leaving, the security guard pointed out that White Earth Band Chairman Michael Fairbanks and other tribal government officials were sitting in the Adirondack chairs lined up against the front of the store, facing Highway 10.

The chairman told me he was in Moorhead to see how things were going with Waabigwan Mashkiki, to greet customers and to see what they think of the product.

“It’s been rocking and rolling,” Fairbanks said. “I like to interact with our guests, make sure that everything is flowing good. There’s a good energy, good vibes.”

We’re living in different times, man. From Reefer Madness when weed was the devil’s work to personal budtenders named Basil to help you pick out the best strain to get the cleanest high. Different times.