Weed Chronicles

My dude Dre, there is no way I can ever leave this dude out of any weed story. This dude and I were like the blues brothers or something. What I find funny now is that we met at the drug testing center for the job we were both going for. We were going for a job fueling planes at the airport. At the time, that money was really good money. So it was a good look. I had given up smoking for maybe a month, and for maybe two weeks I was drinking golden seal in big assed cups. I was already working at the airport washing planes, so I always made a cup of golden seal tea to drink at night during lunch. This is before the drug tests got sophisticated and what not.

But I got the heads up on this fueling job so the smoking had to be cut down dramatically. So I go to this testing center, and I am outside talking with some dude, sharing a cigarette. He tells me his boy is in there taking the test. I know the dude from somewhere. He is from my area, so we start talking about the folks we know, who is doing this and that now. It was all good, we laughing over a lot of shit. He tells me that his boy Dre used his piss for the test. I’m like damn, wish I would have thought of that, but I am not too thrilled about holding another dudes piss.

My girl at the time had given me a ride to the spot, but had to bounce for work, so I was basically stuck there. This dude Dre gave me a ride back to the hood. Fast friends, we both had bags with us, and it was time to get some blunts. And we were pretty much inseparable after that. Man, listen we smoked so much that it was like a cheech and chong movie. We had so many damn crazy things happen. At least crazy and funny to me. I find humor in almost anything.

In those times, around 1996, 1997, weed was good. There were actual goods out to find out about. Not like it is now. There was pep, cambo, body bag, real chocolate thai, bubble gum, old golden, so much shit. I always on my day off would go uptown to a smoke shop, and cop some goods. There was a spot on Lexington avenue that only sold fat assed bags of chocolate, nickel bas of chocolate at that. I would buy 20, and make a killing in 5 minutes, and I was good. But that chocolate was some good shit. Good enough to cross back over the pond, and sell for 15 bucks a pop. Those were good times indeed.

Dre and me would do some silly shit. One time we were bored out of our mind, and decided to go to New York to get some goods. Now the thing is that we were already fucked up, drunk, high, just straight bugging out. We get to the toll booth, and before we get to the teller, I was like “yo, we work for the airport, these id’s say port authority, we don’t have to pay shit.” I didn’t know how it would really go down, but shit, we showed the badges, and we went through scott free. We did that shit numerous times after that. Until 9/11, I was doing it, and it worked all the time. I still have that ID too, too bad the shit don’t work now.

The first time we did it, we get up in the city, and we go right to the spot. This was the first time we smoked this shit called body bag. Oh my damn, this shit was the ultimate weed ever at that time, to us, anyways. We were driving around, but I would swear that I was riding on the hood like an ornament. I do not think I have smoked some shit like that since then. We got paranoid and started wondering if the shit was laced or some shit. We tried to go back to the shop to question these motherfuckers on what was in this shit. But, the thing is that, we forgot where the hell the spot was. We sitting in the truck yelling out shit arguing;

“it was on a hill nigga, a big assed hill,”
“there aint no hills in the bronx,”
“yes there is, lenox hill”
“who the fuck is lenox?”
“probably the nigga that sold us this weed”
“lets call that nigga”
“where he at?”
“on the hill yo”
“fuck it, lets go”

That was the actual conversation. So we bounce, because we are officially fucked up. And he was more than I am, because at that time, I didn’t drink really. He stays with a beer in his lap, even while driving. I wasn’t concerned with safety then anyways. Now, this is the new york city, before it was revamped. 42nd street was filled with all types of porno shops, and peep shows. This dude is a porn aficionado, or was, or whatever. He says, we should go to one of them shops. So, fuck it, we in one of them joints, I forget the name, but it had a lot of big lights. While we in there, I’m walking around, I am checking out some flicks and all. My things is that, I am a very cheap person at times. I couldn’t see myself buying a twenty dollar vhs tape, porn or no porn. Wasn’t gonna happen, I would rather spend twenty five cents on the peep show with a live bitch than spend that dough on a porn that I would never see the end of. So, we are in this place for close to a half an hour. When I seen Dre at 11:05 he was looking at the cover of a tape. I roam around, and go back to the isle he was at around 11:12, he was still looking at the same tape cover. I don’t think anything of it. I then again roam around, and I don’t really see anything worth buying, but I caught the 3 for $20 deal, and I copped those tapes. I go back to my dawg to show him at 11:30, he is still looking at the same tape cover. I go up to him, I say, “Yo” he drops the tape and had the most lost look on his face. He didn’t say shit for maybe two minutes. I mean he had to blink this way out of his daze. This nigga did not know what the hell the problem was. All he said was;

“I do not even know what I was looking at, I wasn’t sleep, I was just stuck, I couldn’t move. We need to go find the spot with that body bag and cambo again, like right now”

I’m game nigga. I was trying to get where he was. Our high asses already had shit, but we still went on a high ass forgetful search. None of it fruitful. I have too many stories with this dude, and the others we fucked with. So this a weed chronicle.