Smoking pot then and now

I found this cartoon posted on FaceBook last month

Buying pot then and now…

Sunday   April 21

Well the big adventure in my life is that yesterday afternoon, to my big surprise, Andrea’s husband called me to ask for a favor.

Andrea is my dearest friend from NYC.  She and her husband Dave moved to Tucson the same summer Ruthie moved to Ocean Beach CA.

The desert did not take for Andrea and Dave. They had been living in the woods in NY State when they moved to Tucson. And as soon as they sell their house here they will move back to the woods.

But people stopped buying houses at exactly the same time they finally completed the year's labor of getting their house ready for the market. Andrea’s husband did so much work.

They finally had to take it off the market after several years of it not selling and always lowering the price. But their dream hasn’t changed. They still want to get back to the woods.

I rarely see them, but I used to talk to Andrea on the telephone once a month.

Because she is New Age like me, we could talk about everything from a New Age point of view, which I totally appreciate as I do not have that with anyone else.

But the last few months brought such unexpected difficulties into their life I haven’t heard from her at all.

Which is why I was surprised when her husband called me yesterday afternoon to ask for a favor. To lift their spirits, he wanted to know if my cousin Gloria could buy them a little pot. I was a pot smoker all thru my twenties, but I have not bought any pot since then.

And I only listen with half an ear when Gloria tells me about buying a little pot for herself, she buys such a tiny quantity. I knew last month Chico, the guy who sells it to her said he doesn’t have any now.

And reaching Chico is always a problem. Either Chico doesn’t bother calling back or his cellphone is broken.

And when she does reach Chico, and Chico says “I'll call you back tomorrow and let you know when I get some in.” Tomorrow has a different meaning to Chico than to the rest of us. It seems to mean “some day,” “eventually.”

I did instantly call Gloria to ask her to do the favor. She said she will do it.

“How much is it?” I asked.

“30” Gloria said.

The last time I bought pot which was in 1970 it was $30 for an ounce, so I thought “Wow the price has not gone up.” But it turns out that is the price of a quarter of an ounce which is what Gloria buys.

Gloria called me back and said she left the message with Chico. “It’s not a matter of if I will be able to get the pot for your friends but when. You have to be patient.”

So I called Dave back and told him that. He is very grateful and very appreciative to Gloria. I suggested he give Gloria 10 dollars for gas since it is such a long drive out there and back. And Dave said not only 10 for gas but he wants to give Gloria another ten for doing him such a wonderful favor.

LOL I can’t believe I’m the middle man of pot deal. Altho it is such a small deal. $30 for a quarter of an ounce.

But when Chico will call Gloria back is anyone’s guess, and then when Chico will actually have some pot to sell is anyone's guess.

I haven’t been back in this world of scoring some pot for such a long time, it does seem like a big adventure to me.

Altho back in the Sixties when my boyfriend Alan was buying some pot for us, we went to Paul's apartment on East 7th Street (in the East Village of Manhattan.)

Paul was a college student at NYU, he kept the plastic baggies of ounce of pot under the floor board in the living room of the teeny tenement apartment.

He would pry up the floorboard and take out a lid and Alan would give him the 20 or 25 dollars it was back then. Actually I think it was $15.

There were always a lot of people hanging out in Paul's apt. We were all college students.

And after Alan bought the pot he would roll a joint and pass it around, and we all sat there stoned listening to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones and Ravi Shankur.

This was 1966.

I guess the way of doing business has changed now. I would offer to go with Gloria when she drives to Chico's to pick up the pot, but the last thing I want to do is sit around Chico’s apartment get stoned and listen to music for 3 hours. With everyone else who is there.

But maybe that is not how business is done anymore. It’s been a few years since 1966 and we were all young college students.

And Chico does not sound one bit like a college student. His wife is in jail and he has 4 dobermans.

And with Paul I don’t remember Alan calling him. We would just drop over.

Paul would pry up the floor board, there was a little cavity underneath. Pull out a lid in a plastic baggie, hand it to Alan, Alan would hand him the $15 and we all sat around stoned and listened to the music on the record player for the rest of the afternoon.

Since me and all my friends went to City College which was free and Paul was going to NYU which was private and cost money. He probably came from a rich family in California who let him go to New York for college.

Rent on those tiny tenement apartments back then was only $50/month. And no one had a car.

Giggle giggle other than paying his tuition, his parents didn’t have to pay for their son in college in NYC since Paul was working his way thru school.