Once upon a time about eight years ago, this ex-girlfriend of mine was really fond of pot. I didn’t smoke, but honestly I had no issue with her doing it, so anyways she tells me this dealer of her’s that lives out in Edinburgh had a bag of weed for her. He had to leave, so he put it out in this RV in his front yard that he left unlocked, and she asked me if I could drive her to Edinburgh to go retrieve it. It sounded like a shitty way to spend an evening, but really I had nothing better planned to do, plus she sold me on the whole idea of stopping on the way back at the Dairy Queen on Route 14, so it seemed like a win-win for both of us. She’d have her pot, and I’d have a tasty chicken strip basket and a Moolatte.
We get to his house and I parked in the driveway. We see the RV, and she gets out of my car and heads over to find her hidden bag of weed. Upon attempting to open the door, she realized it was locked, so she began trying to pry the door open, calmy first, and then almost frantically, as this woman really loved to get high. I sat there watching her from my car, and then I happened to notice someone in the window of the house, who had pulled back the curtain and had started to watch us. I rolled down my window and yelled to my ex, is that your friend? She stopped, looked over at the window, and yelled back to me no. Which made sense, because it was an elderly woman, who at first glance wouldn’t strike me as a drug dealer. And it explained why the older woman looked so frightened, to see me sitting in her driveway, and a mexican trying to pry her way into her RV.
My ex walked back over and got into my car, looked at the number on the front of the house, and simply said whoops, wrong address. We drove further down the street, and she eventually found her drug dealer’s RV. Long story short, I really enjoyed the chicken strip basket and Moolatte, and that old lady probably moved.