A while ago, I’m driving home from work in the midst of a tasty bowl of hairy chronic. To those of you who are thinking the following...
- "woah, this guy has a problem"
- "can’t you wait?!"
- "what does the adjective ‘hairy’ have to do with anything?"
...we probably aren’t that good of friends or you are definitely on the wrong website. And you try to listen to rap all day at work and not have the urge to puff, puff...not pass on the way home.
I digress. So it's broad daylight. I’m almost home and find myself, paraphernalia in hand, driving through a suburban area dotted with smiling parents with strollers, happy elderly couples, and 106 drivers all looking at me with 911 already dialed just waiting for me to lift the devil device to my lips so they can press SEND. My paranoia also spots several dozen perfect hiding spots for cops equipped with heat-sensor binoculars. You may remember this from philosophy class as "The Stoner’s Dilemma."
My conscience, at least what’s left of it, kicks in and I contemplate holding off for a few minutes until the coast is clear. This is when the totally involuntary, yet instantly amusing, thought goes through my head:
"hey, I’m a white guy in a button-down and dress pants...should be good to go."
I commence lift off.
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