The Tootsies parking lot is the size of the average mall parking lot. I'm riding to a black dive with a certain Tuscl member. I won't mention his name but it rhymes with heck. We are walking to his car. He's parked about .7 miles from the club entrance. I ask why are you parked four times as far from the entrance as every other car. He says he needed to smoke weed and there were cops patrolling. Good reason.
I used to think that the car that the DS drives smelled a lot like weed. I no longer think that. You can get high just from 60 seconds of sitting in heck's car. The smell of marijuana is stronger here than on a marijuana farm. It is incredibly overpowering. I like this smell. I just don't like it in the car that I'm getting ready to drive away in.
I sit down and heck throws a bag of about 1/2 oz of weed in my lap. If you don't smoke, 1/2 oz is a good amount. Heck clearly has other bags of marijuana food items all over the place. I consider hiding it all in the trunk, but what's the use. The smell is overpowering. I immediately go into lawyer mode, figuring out all of my defenses to keep myself out of jail when the cops pull us over. If that happens heck is spending six months in jail. But I've got ten reasons in my head why the cops should let me go. Sorry heck. That's the risk you take when you drive with a lawyer.
Heck lights a joint and start driving. I tell him to drop the damn drugs. Even driving with the DS is not this scary. And she's got big tits to distract me from the risk of imminent death. Heck has no tits.
My job is navigator. But I'm very high. So I'm struggling to follow the funny little blue dot on the gps. Several times I call out the wrong turn and correct myself at the last minute. Heck lights up another joint.
I consider calling Papi and asking for him to pick me up. But we've were walking in the parking lot so,long that Papi is long gone. I'm all alone with heck.
I've never been so scared since I found out the DS had a whale with more money than me. At a stop light heck throws the bag of weed in my lap again. He's a funny little fucker. I don't know what's worse. The fear or dying in a car crash. The fear of the cops pulling us over and finding heck's weed. You can smell the weed a block before we get there. Or maybe it's the fear of the cops finding the vapes in my pocket. And there's also the fear of me directing the car into a lake or a tree. I can't get the office episode out of my head where Michael follows the gps into a lake.
Occasionally I feel like my stripper habits are going to get me in serious trouble. This is one of those occasions. But here's the really funny thing. While I was terrified, Heck was a great driver. He drove the speed limit, he stayed in the lanes. He handled my gps screw ups and kept us on track. He drove very safely, and we never were in any actual danger. He clearly wasn't really high when we left. He just liked making me think he was high. Most of my fear was really just the weed making me paranoid, and the fact that I could be spending the next day in jail instead of on south beach.
But I don't want to give heck any more of a hard time. He was the tuscl member who did the greatest act of kindness. Hint. It involved Hanna Banana.
So we made it to the black dive. Talk about paranoia. That feeling had just begun.
I'm going to the beach now but more stories later. Next up: my first visit to a black dive.
Sounds scary. I thought it was scary catching a ride with a drunk driver in college and another time with this guy from Lebanon who he himself said caused 8 accidents, at one time turned the corner so fast that two wheels were up in the air and drove routinely over 90 in busy traffic up near Raleigh. He said he was trying to scare me. I laughed at him when he ran over a curb and lost a hubcap but didn't know how to put it back on.