Why I Never Dealt Drugs

I've mentioned occasionally that I've never dealt dope in my life. That's basically true, except I lied. Once. Honestly for being such a strong memory, and something that's absolutely hilarious in hindsight, it was so traumatic at the time that maybe I've tried to block it out, but I almost never think about it. That's too bad because it is a funny story.
 Just for the record, I never once so much as offered a puff of grass of even a sip of beer to anyone unwilling to partake. Selling dope is potentially immoral in terms of who might end up with it. Sure you could sell to a legal adult (we pronounce it "ADult" here in the South), but you never know whom they might sell it to. The legal ramifications speak for themselves. No can do on all fronts.
 Back around a million years ago I had a friend who ran sound for my band for a time and he dealt weed. He was a straight-shooter, which put some people off but that I appreciated. That was the only reason I ever decided to break my vow. More importantly it was a situation where it would all be going to trusted friends. Back in those days there'd be seasonal "droughts" in the flow of pot, but whomever the "man" in this case was, apparently they had so much that they had it all year, and it was good too.
 J-Mac wanted to set me up and introduce me to Mr. Big so I could get it rolling independently of his thing. I wouldn't be selling dime bags to strangers at all hours. I was getting a kilo right off the bat. It would be split about ten ways and go to J's and my friends at 2-4 oz. a pop. For my trouble I'd get 6 oz of smoke and make $185 or something like that, which was a bit of cash back then. Getting paid for getting free weed is pretty compelling, so I agreed to try it just once. Idiot move.
 I guess we were at J's house but we were getting ready to go over to a big apartment complex so I could score. I don't remember the circumstances but somewhere along the way we ran into my friend Champ, who'd been out on the town big time. He was loaded. One thing about Champ is that he and I were never "mean drunks." True to form he was in a great mood. In fact it was one of those nights for him where anything goes. He was laughing his ass off at everything, and it was contageous. I was dead-sober and trying to be serious. I was about to hang my ass out in the breeze and pick up two elbows-plus of pot. It was no time for levity.
 Long story but for years we've called each other Champ. When he found out we were going to score some weed he thought that was terriffic. Against my better judgement I let him ride in the back seat. To think that someone would want to go along on something that dangerous (and stupid) willingly is beyond me, but as I said he was loaded. He didn't give a shit. Everything was a big joke. Not that there's anything wrong with that but there's a time and place.
 We pulled up to the apartments with J driving and Champ giggling in the back seat. I tried to shush him to no avail. I went to the door and knocked. A very large Mexican gentleman opened the door, looked both ways and let me in. I felt like I was suddenly in a movie, or a different part of the world maybe. The room was deathly silent...no TV or radio, and no one spoke a word the entire time. A guy motioned for me to sit down at a table and I found myself being directly stared at by 6-7 other intense-looking gentleman. They never took their eyes off of me. I'm not sure if they ever blinked. It was good for starters and I felt right at home. Not.
 "You could cut the tension with a knife" is usually just a saying but that night it was true. It was creepy and scary as fuck and I was already having second thoughts about my poor decision. I looked around and saw more guns, money and weed that I've ever seen before or since. A few men were holding guns. I guess they slept with them. If they slept, that is. I just wanted to grab the shit and get the fuck out of there, and I doubt they'd have invited me over for poker night or anything. It was rough. I gave money guy the money and he handed me a brand-new cooler that I presumed was packed with 2.2 lbs of weed. I nodded and split. I'd never been so glad to leave a place. I could finally breathe again. Or so I thought.
 It's funny but I remember thinking how nice of a cooler it was, and I supposed it just came with the deal. That thought didn't last long. As I got down the sidewalk toward the car I noticed that a cop or a sheriff had pulled up two spaces over, with nary a car in between. I almost froze in terror, but I managed to stay calm as I walked to the car. I didn't know if he was there to bust those guys, or people walking out of there with a kilo of weed too, or what, but I figured that he didn't have X-ray vision, and if I was busted I was busted and there was no use to panic. Somehow I remained totally calm and even managed a weak smile when he looked up from his paperwork and straight at me. As if miraculous, he nodded and went back to his clipboard. Boy, howdy...I'd dodged a bullet so to speak. And then the unthinkable happened.
 Champ, who was having the time of his life sitting in a car going nowhere and waiting for his sober friend, who was trying to be as serious as he'd ever been in his life because he was doing something that was highly illegal, was so wasted that he hadn't noticed the cop pull up. He was sitting there with what we used to call a "shit-eating" grin on his face as I walked up to the car with a cooler full of weed right next to a cop. Champ thought it was just all jolly-good and he was enjoying every minute of it. Actually now that I think about it, Champ still had his wits about him enough to know that what I was doing was a bonehead move and totally out of character, and he was basically giving me shit about it, and with good reason. I should have paid more attention probably.
 Just as I was reaching for the door, he said, in a very loud and surprisingly un-slurred voice "Well, Champ...didja get the STUFF?" I was mortified and almost froze again, but what's another major heart attack when you just had one two seconds ago? I opened the door like it was a life jacket thrown to a drowning man. The cop looked up at me again and I was waiting to hear his door handle opening as he was getting out to slap the cuffs on me. Going from the terror of seeing a cop while I was holding a shitload of weed to thinking I was in the clear back to sheer terror again thinking my best friend was going to accidentally get me thrown in the pokey wasn't much fun.
 It was almost Christmas, so maybe it was an early miracle, but somehow I made it into the car and we carefully drove off. "Champ, man...did you not see that COP?" I said to Champ. He looked back around as we were driving off. "Oh, man..." he said. For a second and for the first time that evening he got quiet, but as it hit us what just happened we all three busted out laughing. We were none the worse for wear but that was a little close for comfort. Fortunately that was one of those lessons I only had to learn once for it to stick. J-Mac understood. I wasn't the guy. I knew before we got six blocks away from the dope house that that was my one and only foray into dealing. I had plenty of time to reflect on things. While I was smoking six ounces of free pot. I didn't say it was all bad. Just say No.

Stuff You Won't Hear Much About

In the "I told you so" department, last year I did a post saying that it was probably not going to be a good time to have any major substance issues. Not that ANY time is, but with all the people being displaced by disasters A, B and C and whatnot, there were going to be a number of addicts included, and they were most likely going to have a bad time.
 I just finished smoking a cigarette and I'm drinking a cup of coffee and I've certainly tried stronger stuff, so I'm not one to judge. Back in the day I drank too much and I smoked a truckload of weed and I dabbled in a few things, but I never stuck a needle in my arm, and when it comes to the "stupid drugs" like crack, meth, heroin and whatever else, I never even saw those in person. Luckily I can't speak from experience about what it's like to be "dope sick," or to suddenly withdraw from drugs, but I hear it's a bitch.
 Right now there's a hell of a lot of people who are geeked out of their minds because they can't get dope. Don't get me wrong...it pales in comparison to all the people who've lost everything, and aren't addicts to begin with, but I'm guessing it's a bit of a problem for people at large shelters. Most addicts I imagine live dimebag-to-dimebag, so it's not like they were able to put away an emergency stash. All their shit's gone, so even if they could find some dope, they wouldn't have anything to trade for it except for sex, as usual, and that's probably much harder to arrange in a public shelter. And that's assuming they can even find a dope man to begin with, and that his stash didn't get wet. I do know enough about drugs to know that wet drugs are mostly useless. I also know that any dealer sitting on any quantity of anything is in the catbird seat right now.
 I did hear one thing a few days ago that was related. It was in Florida and they were talking about hospitals and mental-health facilities being open, but I can tell you right now that if things get bad, the druggies will be last in line for treatment. There's also quite a lot of the "You got what you deserve" mentality in the medical profession toward addicts. I think it's wrong, but it definitely exists. There's a bunch of bug-eyed people geeking out right now and they're pretty much up a creek...or a river or an ocean or whatever. Yeah, nobody's going to talk about this. It's a small percentage of the population anyway but they're there and it's something to consider. I wouldn't want to have to deal with them.
 On the bright side, in a week or two, if things don't change, those people will pretty much be over the physical part of the addiction, and maybe they can start working on the rest of the issue. It may be some time before they can rebuild their lives enough to the point where they can start buying dope again. We'll see I guess. Dopers are crafty. Their addictions become their primary relationships, and I'm sure it's no different in a shelter than on the street. Maybe better even. Who knows? Just for the record I also said in that post that ANYONE can quit substances. It's true. I'd recommend tapering off slowly...just the same as when they started, but there are many ways and it CAN be done. Sadly for many people right now that method looks like it's going to be cold turkey. Next time, just say no.