(posted on FB but saving here for easy-access posterity)
I was leaving Z'otz around midnight. As I was unlocking my bike and tying my ankle-length skirt into a knot, an older white guy with a shaved head approached me.
Him: Hey, uh, you know where I can buy a joint?
Me: No. Sorry.
Him: C'mon. Really? Really?!
I'm curious what it was about me that screamed "haver of ze drugs!" to this dude. The bangs? (they do double duty as indicators of my hipsterness and my drug habits.) The nose rings? The bike? Being a mid-20's white girl outside of a vaguely counter-culturey coffeeshop?
My first thought was "cop," but upon further consideration, I wonder if it wasn't just some dude who decided he wanted to try pot. I mean, buy a joint? Really? We're not at Bonnaroo, asshole. I feel like NOPD might be more adept at snaring people, you know? Then again, I guess there probably are some idiots who would pull out their stash and those are easy targets. Either way, it was a good opportunity to continue perfecting my "get away from me" side-eye.
*no, not really. reefer madness, y'all.**
**the last time I bought drugs, I was in high school.