The Wilderness Years - Cool Runnings

After the halcyon summer of 93 i left Ocean City with all my shit packed in the good Doctor's car and drove north to upstate New York to see his lady, where i spent a few days sleeping on her floor and he in her bed and then we headed back to the wilds of Pennsyltucky to sleep on floors or couches or where ever cuz at the time we were technically homeless, wandering around with all our possessions stuffed into his trunk and backseat, i lucked out and found a bed to sleep in, the charming man that i am, but the point was there were no jobs in the town of Podunk U. and we needed to get our shit together quick, so after about a month of couch surfing we finally found a place in the burgh and moved down to the beauty that is North Oakland, you know, the place with the hole in the ceiling, three rooms, a balcony, snow gently falling into the kitchen in the winter, a corner with a laundromat and bar and grocery store and liquor store, everything a young man could want...

We both started off by working the midnight shift stocking shelves for the local monopoly on supermarket's, those in these parts might recognize the giant bird that is this monopoly and it was there one fine night that we showed up an hour early and the boss man laughed and said, "damn you guys gotta sit here for an hour" and walked out and i looked at the good doctor and said, "fuck him, i'm out" and asked for the keys and made my way back to the apartment where i drank a beer, got stoned, turned on the radio and stared out my window into the chilly November night, jobless again, roughly the the seventh job i had held since May but fuck it i was young and then a few nervous days passed and i scored a gig at the bagel shop, the same one mentioned in Robert and the mittens, of course all the while i was on the lookout for a side gig and then the gods smiled and a friend showed up and said he had a line on something and that at 16 an elbow would most likely provide us with a substantial amount of extra income and not only that but he could front us the shit cuz his friend back home was hooked the fuck up as they say, seems his friend had a dad who was a coke dealer to the stars back in the 70's, photos with Mick and Keef, Stevie Nicks, you know the line-up, well friend went to see dad, who was doing a pretty long stretch, on work release but it seems that daddy had done it right and not narc'd anyone out and was well positioned to set up the kid he barely knew in business, a grand stroke of luck for all involved if ever there was one...

and so began the first go-round, two pounds on the front, nickel and dime shit with the occasional weight tossed off but since we were broke and young the smaller we cut it up the better, more profit, and even though i was the point man and the good doctor more or less answered the door and got people beers i cut him in on the profits, i mean shit man we were in this together, and like most things of this nature it began to snowball, the grass was decent and after a month or so we were doing just fine, moving our fair share and stashing money, of course i immediately re-enforced the fire escape window and devised a slick place to hide the gear and the money i saved and though it was three long flights of steps i was glad to be on the third floor, basically another level of security in a building that had  one door to be buzzed in and another at the top of the steps before you could even get to our door, a healthy dose of  paranoia never hurt in this game and though we dealt with people we knew or had good references you never knew when that fucking scumbag was gonna walk through the door and devise a way to rip you off, it's the nature of the business and the business was going well...

Then one day we needed to make an emergency run, the supply had gone faster than expected and since the bagel job and parking cars didn't make either of us rich it was important to keep product in the house, my check basically covered my rent and my student loans and if i wanted to do anything like say eat or drink i needed the side gig, so it was that me and Torsten the connection borrowed the good doctor's car and set off on a journey to the Laurel Highlands aka the fucking armpit of Pennsyltucky, named after those Scottish highlands most likely for the absolute shit weather and harshness of country, and on this day our goal was to beat the snow which was coming our way, and so we set off as the flakes were lightly falling and we drove to Ligonier about an hour and fifteen minutes away, i hung out at a mutual friend of ours and Torsten set off for Mr. Big's and as i sat and drank coffee and watched the flakes get bigger and faster i tried not to think about the drive back...

So i sat and waited and then Torsten and his curly blond hair burst through the door, covered in snow now cuz it began to come down even harder and we all made a few jokes and then he and i trudged out to the car and began our drive back, a drive that would take twice as long, a drive with him at the wheel and me riding shotgun and being the extra set of eyes and five pounds of southern Cali's semi-finest stinking up the backseat, we crept along on roads so covered that there were no lanes or lines and we kinda just followed the tail lights and hoped that the people in front of us didn't run off the road, now on the side of the road i counted almost 20 cars that had landed themselves in a ditch or stuck or spun out but Torsten and I just kept right on chatting away about all sorts of inane shit as if by acknowledging the situation would be to fuck ourselves right in the dumper, and so he drove and i watched and my feet were cold and we hit a white-out and slowed even more and then slowly we began to see the lights of the city and the roads got a bit better but not much, you could maybe make out a slush filled lane possibly and cars were still stuck on the side of the road and the backseat still smelled really fucking good and when he finally made South Oakland, where Torsten lived, we both kind of let out a sigh and laughed, he looked at me and said "that was fucking nerve-wracking, did you see all those cars spun out" and i laughed and replied that i was pretending that it wasn't happening and they didn't exist and he laughed and said he was doing the same thing cuz there is a fine line one walks in the game, fucking luck plays more a part in success than you'd like to think, you can try and cut out the loose cannons and minimize the risk but all it takes is one mistake, like this night, getting stuck and having the cops show up to help or a tow truck driver who carries a bible in his truck and isn't hooked on speed, of course the other option in that case is to dump the stash but then you gotta come up with 8g's somewhere and at this point and time that wasn't gonna happen...

And so Torsten jumped out and grabbed his three and sent me on my way with my two and i drove carefully across my neighborhood and ran up the three flights of steps where i turned on my little portable heater and put my feet next to it while Sylvia the cat purred and rubbed up against my legs, i packed the bong and then packed it again and then packed it again, listening to the college radio station, i drank some hot chocolate and then climbed onto my mattress, the one i took off the pullout couch that i found in my room, the one i threw a couple of eggshell mattresses on to get me a whopping 4 inches off the floor, pulled up my blankets while Sylvia curled up and purred and i thought this sure isn't how this shit looked on Miami Vice and i grinned and rubbed Sylvia's head as outside the snowflakes fell fat and white.