Being 16

Turning 16 was awesome. In the week surrounding my birthday, I got a cell phone, an ’89 S-10, a driver’s license, and a job at AMC Theaters in Humble, Texas. I was “all the way up” and “nothing [could] stop me.”

It was also the year I tried alcohol. I liked it almost as much as I liked cannabis, I just hated the hangovers. There is no hangover with cannabis. If there is, it’s more tolerable than alcohol.

I had been using cannabis since I was 14. I supported my medical needs by mowing lawns. I also had enough to buy some video games, musical equipment, and skateboards…all of them were outlets growing up.

At 16, I ramped up my levels. Instead of buying a quarter or half-ounce at a time, I graduated to one to two ounces per transaction. I started to gain a reputation, especially among my peers.

One associate came to me and said, “Somebody came to me the other day and asked if I knew who had weed. I told them that you always had good quality weed, even when everyone else was dry.” Part of this was because I had local connections in Dayton, but if Dayton was dry, I had connections in Houston. Most of my peers didn’t.

It makes good sense.

When I would go into Houston, I used it as an opportunity to turn my Ebonics (gangsta slang of the impoverished areas) and Spanish up full blast. I knew some interesting people. Some flexed up, but I never really had any problems. Years later, I found out that they didn’t interact with many brave, middle-class white people, so I could get places that my white-racist, under-achieving, middle-class white people couldn’t. This was a HUGE advantage in the black market.

I didn’t “deal” in the traditional sense. No. Due to some critical thinking, I had other ideas. What I would do is go to my dealer and ask for low prices. I would pick up 2 ounces of top-shelf…I mean stuff that makes Colorado and California top-shelf look like dirt…for $65 dollars. Then, I would go to parties and get everyone high and discreetly share my connect with people I trusted.

I remember a few parties where I rolled some fat joints, and the joint would just take off through the crowd, one or two hits were enough to get most people “blowed” or really high. We called it “2-hitter-quitter” instead of “top-shelf.” The latter likely adopted from the alcohol industry.

I would have to pass 20, 30, 40 people and walk up to who was holding the joint and say, “Hey. Could you please hand the joint to me.” I didn’t care how old they were. I could care less if they thought they were tough because they played high school sports. Some would spark an attitude with me. I’d say something like, “That’s my weed your smoking. Hand it over so I can hit it a few times.” They would, and I would often give it back.

I’m not a monster.

Taking people’s cannabis virginity and lighting up a whole party was called, “killin it.” I would even say this to adults.

“What have you been doing today?” They’d ask.

“Killin it. What about you?” I’d respond.

I think some knew, but most did not.

Fun times.

“Donde esta la mota?” — Spanish

“Where da weed/kill/bud at?” — Ebonics

Wagen, over and out.

 

4 comments

  1. I remember killing it a lot!. But I was brace soldier that would go over the border and bring back a (loaded shopping basket)aka200 to 3000 pounds at a time via semi trucks. I was 21 . I did small time as a kid. Just wasn’t makeing mountains move. But now I was the one your momma warned you about!. Didn’t care! Had a new familia! You didn’t want to piss off cause they were mountain movers! Any how. Camillion I have always been! Blend into any crowd. ! BIG baskets ment big money 2 ways. Buying for 50 a pound in Mexico.and flipping it in Chicago Ill. For 2000 a pound . Made me drunk with power and money! UNSTOPPABLE!. We should have been hanging out together back then KC. We would have been a great team!

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