The year was 1994. My brother, one of my friends and myself were at my house hanging out, more than likely watching the boob tube. I’d like to imagine that we had MTV on, back when they still aired mostly music videos instead of reality shows.
“I wish we had some weed,” my brother said.
“Yeah, man,” I said. “I got 5 on it.”
My friend agreed that a bag of weed sounded like a fine idea.
My brother’s usual source was dry. He did a little searching around, via our wireless landline phone and eventually found someone who had some Mary Jane.
“Okay, we’re supposed to meet him by the railroad tracks behind the Tops grocery store,” he said. We all piled into my little blueberry and were off on a dangerous mission to obtain some pot from some kid we didn’t know.
When we got there, I turned off my headlights. We all peered into the darkness and saw a shadowy figure standing on the tracks maybe about 200 feet away.
“Be careful, bro,” I said, suddenly uneasy.
He got out of the car and slipped into the darkness. My friend and I watched anxiously as my brother made the transaction. It felt like he was out there for hours but in reality it didn’t take more than 3 minutes.
I looked around to make sure that the fuzz wasn’t around. It was after midnight and you never knew who could be watching a bunch of dumb ass kids doing sketchy shit.
Finally, my brother was walking swiftly back to the car. He got in and I tore ass out of there, homeward bound.
It wasn’t long before my friend and I heard my brother spewing profanities from the back seat.
“What’s wrong?”I asked.
“It’s fucking oregano! That asshole gave me a baggie of oregano!!”
Sure enough, suddenly my car started to smell like the kitchen of an Italian restaurant.
“Holy shit!” I exclaimed. (Or something like it.)
“Son of a bitch!” my brother swore. (Or something to that effect.)
“Well, at least we can make a nice batch of spaghetti sauce,” my friend observed wryly, trying to be the comedic relief that we all needed.
It helped a little but my brother and I were out $10 and still pretty pissed off.
Moral of the Story: If you’re going to buy marijuana, always know your source or just go without.