The Wilderness Years - The 6th of July 1996

Was a sticky Rust Belt summer day, i had spent the last hour being a complete pain in the ass and calling Hippie Jack's place every ten minutes or so because i needed to pick a pound and a half of grass, around this time i was approaching my one year anniversary of setting up shop, the new roomies were in, the old ones had moved downstairs, Sister Cheryl was still upstairs and the bidness was rolling along, that is when Hippie Jack wasn't being a fucking hippie, and so after making plans to be over early the next day, early being any time before 4pm happy hour kick-off, i was getting a bit pissed with my friends lackadaisical attitude towards our business dealings, after the fifth or sixth attempt he finally picked up and laughed it all off and told me to come on over, it was already established that i was Jack's meal ticket with Mr. Big, the new kid in town was doing a nice job in his entry level position, and so i tossed the money into the backpack and grabbed the bicycle and hit the street...

Now on this day i was attending my first real person adult type wedding, my friend Willie had invited me to his impending nuptials, for those keeping track Willie was the guy who introduced me to the Frat Guy back when i was in grad school and in need of a hook-up, and Willie was stopping beforehand to procure for his big day, of course being the conscientious type i wanted to make sure i could hook him up, plus there being a reception where i'd be rubbing elbows with a lot of old college friends i figured it'd be wise to have a few samples on hand, besides the fact i had a few orders to fill before i left for the wedding equaled i needed to get shit done, i needed the Hippie to be somewhat punctual about shit and after getting rather drunk the night before, the heat and hangover and ride were doing wonders for my disposition... and so i huffed and puffed and chugged and swore and released a half bottle of Dewar's and many beers from my pores all on the way to  Hippie Jack's...

Of course the drug business is filled with all sorts of weird rituals and protocols, a whole fucked up set of manners among us low-lives and while it was normally frowned upon to run in and run out on this day that was going to happen, oddly it seems like that's more a grass thing than a powder thing, with powder it's score and get the fuck out while the stoners of the world want to converse a bit, mainly to ease paranoia that the man isn't watching, a classic case of stoner over-think, Hippie Jack's hovel with that main city artery running by out front was fine cover, a black ghetto up above and white one down below, his place sat on a line that the cops could give a fuck about as long as no one was shot... and so i lugged my bike up the steps and rapped on the door and the bearded wonder that was Hippie Jack opened up all smiles and in i went...

It was a rare day when i was in a foul mood doing business, Jack could tell straight away i wasn't in the mood for any bullshit, it was a hint at how much had changed and how much power i was beginning to wield, for all intent he was like my boss, i was the star of the sales department, in this game though someone with skills is a threat to everyone above them and so those above do their best to keep them where they're at, i was a lucrative horse to have in the stable so a little acting up wasn't going to bother Hippie Jack too much... i tossed down the money for an elbow and put another half pound on my tab, Jack passed me a bowl and i took a hit and then he pulled a plate up from under his living room table with a pile of powder and some lines chopped out, here man he grinned, you should rip one of these for the ride back...

For a guy who had done a fucking boat load of hallucinogenic drugs, smoked grass like most people drank water, went through a brief angel dust phase, and had dabbled in the black arts of smack, blow was the one thing i considered passe, a bit odd i know but for some reason i associated coke with loud-mouthed assholes (and so in theory some would say it should have been my drug of choice) and for this reason i had always avoided it, that is until i sat there with my shirt sticking to me and the booze seeping out of me, knowing i had a long day and night ahead of me i smiled and said, what the fuck why not? and just like that zooted my first line...

I hung out for another 15 minutes and of course nabbed another line, left with a half gram wrap added to my tab, to get me through the reception of course, and hopped on my bike and rode back to my place, the ride back being downhill and fueled by Bolivia, i figured what the fuck, things were going good and it was going to be a long day, i'd probably never do it again i thought, i mean i was off and running, i had my shit wired tight, what could possibly go wrong?

By the time i got back to my place Willie and a couple of other appointments were already waiting for me, Willie took a look at me and laughed, you looked half-cooked already he said, long night i shrugged, i took him back to my room and weighed out his gear, tossed in a few extra buds on top and sent him on his way towards marital bliss (he just celebrated his 20th anniversary), i took care of the other customers and my new roommate laughed and told me i had a nice Henry Hill look going, at the end of the movie he said smiling, another shrug, sometimes you just gotta say fuck it i said and headed to the shower, somehow beginner's luck saw me not touch that wrap until sometime after i had eaten at the reception, a few more bong hits at my place and the realization that i was ill equipped to go to any sort of function that involved the straight world but what the fuck, my whole mindset was to fly both middle fingers to the squares anyway and so i put on some worn and threadbare pants, a shirt with tiny flowers on it, and a thick sport coat, perfect for fucking July, all of which i had procured at various Goodwill's and thrift stores over the last five years, tied back the dreads, took the lady's hand and set sail into those waters of normal people... whatever that meant...

In the end it was a fine time, yes the were a few stares, maybe more than a few, it's not often polite society is infiltrated by a 6'4 hairy beast in thrift store clothes who somehow doesn't act like a complete caveman, who chews his food with his mouth closed and knows which utensils to use and even in the correct order, hell of a few strangers even struck up a conversation with me, changing hearts and minds one person at a time as they say... and that little wrap? it was gone by the end of the night, i'd probably never touch that shit again i thought...