From: pez@manhattan.com (Gizmo) Subject: The Adventures Of Smacks Past (Part 18) Always Leave Home Without It Date: 1996/09/28 newsgroups: alt.drugs.hard THE ADVENTURES OF SMACKS PAST (PART 18) ALWAYS LEAVE HOME WITHOUT IT It was around 1969. I was on methadone at the time and was not using any other "hard drugs." I was however, doing some business selling pot. I'm pretty sure this was the period of the great marijuana shortage, because I remember how hard it was to get any decent pot. I was seeing this woman named Mindy. Mindy was a major pill head. I can't remember how many times she almost overdosed on seconals, amytols, or tuinols. Frankly I never saw the attraction to these downers. I tried them several times and almost always hated the experience. To me, it was like being drunk, only worse. Compared to the neat, euphoric and (controlled) high you got with heroin, there just wasn't any contest. Downers, Barbiturates etc., turned you into one of the most fucked up and boring people on the planet. So, what was I doing with Mindy? Well, when she wasn't fucked up, she was fun to be with. Plus, she fucked real good. What more could an dope fiend ask for? Anyway, I was looking to score some pot. At the time a kilo sold for around $500 or so. All my usual connections were dry. I asked everywhere. Someone said, "go to Boston man, they got good shit up there." Well, Boston was farther than I was willing to go. Finally Mindy told me she knew someone in New Rochelle that had some stuff. I was pretty suspicious about all this. It got to the point that it was so dry, that if anyone told you they had pot for sale, you had good reason to be wary. About the only thing you ran into was homegrown stuff. And back then, the homegrown stuff was nothing like the high tech hydroponics enterprises that thrive today. So suspicious though I was, I finally decided to take Mindy up on her offer and check into this "connection." I met up with her later that day and she introduced me to another woman named Patty, who was someone I knew casually through this circle of drug friends. Patty said she could set the deal up. She told me the names of the two guys who were dealing weed and I agreed to meet with her and them later that evening. About 9 PM that night I go to pick up Patty at her house and drive to the "Thruway" dinner on Main Street in New Rochelle. This area of the mostly affluent town of New Rochelle, was kind of low rent. This was the beginning of a stretch of Main Street that catered to drunks, drug users, hustlers, hookers etc. Arriving at the dinner, we wait until these two dudes show up. A few minutes later they do. I don't recognize either one of them. Patty introduces me and we start up a conversation. It's the usual drug jargon, with me asking about how good the shit is, etc. "Hey, where is this stuff coming from? I mean, nobody has anything out here. Is it really good shit?" I am assured that it's good stuff. Well they tell me and Patty to follow their car around the corner into the Neptune Trucking parking/loading area. This raises my paranoia antenna quite a bit. "Why are we going to the docking area" I ask? "It's okay man. We got the stuff stashed in one of the trucks." I'm not too comfortable with this. I look at Patty, and she tells me it's okay. But my antenna is up. So we follow them into this very dark, very desolate, very empty docking/loading zone of this big trucking company. I'm watching the two guys I'm following stop their car and motion us to come join them in their vehicle. This we do and after getting in the back seat, I ask for the "taste" that we were promised. They hand me a joint and I light it up. Hmmm. This tastes like pretty good shit. I pass the joint to Patty and ask where is the Kilo. The "dealers" ask me if I have the money. I assure them that we do, but I wanna see the Kilo first. They tell us, "it's in the truck over there, see." I say, "sure, but I need to see the whole fucking Kilo first, or the deal is off." With that, the two guys in the front seat pull out what looks like a 357 Mag and a 9 Millimeter and demand my money. Shit. I had a feeling something like this was about to go down. Now what? Well, fortunately my gut feeling about this, from early that afternoon was enough to let me take precautionary measures. I tell them, "I don't have the money with me!" "What do you mean, you don't have any fucking money. Give it up, mother fucker." Again I tell them, "Listen, you're not gonna believe this, but I had a feeling something like this was going to happen, so I left it home. Go ahead and shoot me, but I don't have any money" They don't believe it at all. "Out of the fucking car" they motion to us. Me and Patty both get out of the car, and the weird thing is that even though it looked like we might get shot over this drug deal, for some fucking reason I didn't seem to give a rats ass. Maybe it was the joint we smoked, maybe it was the methadone I was on, maybe I was just young and stupid enough. Who knows? The bottom line was that I didn't give a shit, and it occurred to me that this was the possible ticket out of this hell hole. So I got on my high horse now. Smiling and somehow feeling pretty brazen, I said, "Listen guys, I'm fucking serious. We don't have the $500. Face it. You're wasting your fucking time." This line of reasoning does not exactly produce the desired effect, as the guy nearest me whops me in the head with the gun handle. I continue to give them hell though. "I'm telling you, you're wasting your time. I left the money home." At this point they decide they want to search us. They start with Patty. They've got her bent over the hood of my car and they are going through her pockets and purse. Then they look in my pockets. I had $25 bucks. "Take the $25 bucks," I tell them. Well, things are starting to get pretty tense now. Should I run. It is dark and I'm thinking I might have a chance of getting away. They slap Patty in the face and ask her for the money. "Leave her the fuck alone," I tell them. Well at that point these two scumbags start talking to each other about what they're going to do with us. I'm thinking, we're fucked. I'm gonna get shot and die in the Neptune Trucking lot. What a way to go. I think, shit. You mean I'm never gonna get to shoot dope again???!!! All of a sudden we all hear a voice in the distance and see a light. "Hey, who's over there?" Great, I'm thinking. It's a cop! Now we're all going to jail. But no! It was the night watchman. He's coming closer. Here's my chance. I say to these guys, "look it's over man. Let's just put the guns away and get the fuck out of here." I can see they are hesitating. I'm sure the night watchmen has a weapon. I'm sure if this goes the wrong way, there could be a lot of bloodshed. I decide not to wait for sign from the heavens. I grab Patty and quickly walk to my car. We pile into the car and start driving off as the night watchman comes closer. I can see in my rear view mirror that the "drug dealers" have done the same thing. Home free, again... Money for drugs? I'm not sure Carl Maulden was doing American Express commercials then, but with drug money, unless you're real sure, it's a good idea to "Always Leave Home Without It." Fuck, if the deal is right, you can always go back and get it. At least that's what I was thinking when this fiasco went down. Oh yea, I almost forgot. Later on that week, I found out that Patty was in on the whole fucking thing. Natch. A friend tipped me off that she was working with these two guys. Is there no loyalty in the illegal drug business? Copyright 1996 Gizmo