This happened last Sunday night in New Orleans. We got to town around three and I'd been doing my typical NO shuffle, bouncing between food, booze and the casino. I really love that town... Somewhere around one AM I get a little itchy and I want a cocktail. There are plenty of places that make great drinks all over town but I was in the mood for The Absinthe House. It's right on Bourbon so it can get stupid touristy but it's been around for 150ish years and I love a 150 year old bar.
I leave the Casino and step out in to the street and it's ridiculously hot and humid outside. The air is so heavy it's hard to breathe. It feels like the inside a humidifier. I head up Iberville, passing the REALLY low rent strip clubs and several "massage" parlors and make my way to the bar. Two of the bartenders were taking about a drink called a Kingston Club and since I like putting myself in the hands of a capable bartender, I had one. Not sure what's in it other than Drambuie but it was kind of spicy and I really liked it.
I sat around talking with the bartenders and the security guys for twenty minutes or so. Finished my drink and headed back in to the humidifier. And that's when I saw him.
I've "run" in to street dealers in almost every city I've been to since I was sixteen. I've met all types of dealers trying to sell all kinds of drugs. Once in Amsterdam I walked in the middle of a sting operation and I was their target. These two guys walked up to me and tried to sell me coke and heroin. The one who was doing the talking was wearing a Yankees jacket and the other one looked like a skinhead wrestler. A very angry skinhead wrestler. The first guy asked "Do you want Heroin or Cocaine?" I said "Uhhh no thanks, everything I like is legal here". "Yankees" cop pulled out a walkie talkie and said "It's a no go. He Said NO" while the other guy looked upset that he couldn't slam my head in to the cobblestones and kick the shit out of me. I'd like to think I was wise and somehow knew they were cops but the truth was "everything I like is legal here"...
Last month I saw a couple of farm boys who were learning a lesson just outside of Times Square. The dealers had the "team" system in place. As in you pay this guy and you pick your dope up from this other guy standing a little down the street. The farm boys scored, but it was some week ass smelling weed I'm sure they overpaid for. That's how it goes if you are buying on the street. Your probably gonna get ripped off one way or another. I'm willing to bet those farm boys headed home and talked about the "sick weed" they scored in the big city.
Generally when I'm approached by someone they say something along the lines of "Hey man you want to buy some smoke?" My regular answer is along the lines of "No thanks. I have some in my room". This gets a variety of responses from "Fuck You Man" to "Hey do you mind if I walk with you through the casino so security doesn't hassle me?" I laugh at the first one and if I'm headed in the same direction I'm more than happy to walk through the Excalibur to the Luxor and bullshit with some of the local criminal element while providing a little cover.
Then there was the guy I met in New Orleans. He was in his late fifties at a minimum. He was pretty fat with white hair and a white scraggly beard. The second I saw him I knew he was dealing and heading my way. But I'd never imagine how cool it would be.
He came up to me with a huge smile on his face and with half mast eyelids that matched mine. He had his hand out to shake and asked...
"Hey brother what's your name? Where you from?"
I answered truthfully "Rice/ATX"
He said "Cool man... Hey, you wouldn't be interested in a little smoke or powder would you? I got some really good powder, Damn it's good powder..."
"Well I'm not really interested in powder... and I got plenty of weed back in my room"
He looked at me for a second and a grin started to sneak across his face as his eyes started getting wider. He starts cracking up and throws his arms around me and gives me a huge bear hug and said "Alright Rice! Well you go on back to your room and enjoy your smoke and have yourself a good night."
Then he turned the corner and headed down Bourbon still laughing. The coolest dealer I've ever met.
I leave the Casino and step out in to the street and it's ridiculously hot and humid outside. The air is so heavy it's hard to breathe. It feels like the inside a humidifier. I head up Iberville, passing the REALLY low rent strip clubs and several "massage" parlors and make my way to the bar. Two of the bartenders were taking about a drink called a Kingston Club and since I like putting myself in the hands of a capable bartender, I had one. Not sure what's in it other than Drambuie but it was kind of spicy and I really liked it.
I sat around talking with the bartenders and the security guys for twenty minutes or so. Finished my drink and headed back in to the humidifier. And that's when I saw him.
I've "run" in to street dealers in almost every city I've been to since I was sixteen. I've met all types of dealers trying to sell all kinds of drugs. Once in Amsterdam I walked in the middle of a sting operation and I was their target. These two guys walked up to me and tried to sell me coke and heroin. The one who was doing the talking was wearing a Yankees jacket and the other one looked like a skinhead wrestler. A very angry skinhead wrestler. The first guy asked "Do you want Heroin or Cocaine?" I said "Uhhh no thanks, everything I like is legal here". "Yankees" cop pulled out a walkie talkie and said "It's a no go. He Said NO" while the other guy looked upset that he couldn't slam my head in to the cobblestones and kick the shit out of me. I'd like to think I was wise and somehow knew they were cops but the truth was "everything I like is legal here"...
Last month I saw a couple of farm boys who were learning a lesson just outside of Times Square. The dealers had the "team" system in place. As in you pay this guy and you pick your dope up from this other guy standing a little down the street. The farm boys scored, but it was some week ass smelling weed I'm sure they overpaid for. That's how it goes if you are buying on the street. Your probably gonna get ripped off one way or another. I'm willing to bet those farm boys headed home and talked about the "sick weed" they scored in the big city.
Generally when I'm approached by someone they say something along the lines of "Hey man you want to buy some smoke?" My regular answer is along the lines of "No thanks. I have some in my room". This gets a variety of responses from "Fuck You Man" to "Hey do you mind if I walk with you through the casino so security doesn't hassle me?" I laugh at the first one and if I'm headed in the same direction I'm more than happy to walk through the Excalibur to the Luxor and bullshit with some of the local criminal element while providing a little cover.
Then there was the guy I met in New Orleans. He was in his late fifties at a minimum. He was pretty fat with white hair and a white scraggly beard. The second I saw him I knew he was dealing and heading my way. But I'd never imagine how cool it would be.
He came up to me with a huge smile on his face and with half mast eyelids that matched mine. He had his hand out to shake and asked...
"Hey brother what's your name? Where you from?"
I answered truthfully "Rice/ATX"
He said "Cool man... Hey, you wouldn't be interested in a little smoke or powder would you? I got some really good powder, Damn it's good powder..."
"Well I'm not really interested in powder... and I got plenty of weed back in my room"
He looked at me for a second and a grin started to sneak across his face as his eyes started getting wider. He starts cracking up and throws his arms around me and gives me a huge bear hug and said "Alright Rice! Well you go on back to your room and enjoy your smoke and have yourself a good night."
Then he turned the corner and headed down Bourbon still laughing. The coolest dealer I've ever met.
