The Law
Just re-reading my post about the weird phone call from the police the "other day" (I'm almost ashamed, I haven't posted in over 10 days), I found something interesting on the street the other day.
We were walking home from the market, and in the most inconspicuous place on the sidewalk, I see a little bag. This little bad has a ganja leaf on it, much like the bags you get from coffee shops or smart shops here. However, this bag contained no ganja, no sir, but rather four pinkish-red pills of unmistakable type.
I pick up the bag and look at it in my hand. Yep, that's ecstasy alright, no mistaking that.
"Wow", I feel, this is certainly a find of [epic] proportions. Then fear and doubt take me. What if that guy over there with the notebook on the bench is "the law", just waiting for me to pocket this thing so they can rush me off to jail. What if the dude who dropped it is right now turning around and is none too happy with the little fucker holding his drugs, and decide to lay down "the law", as it were. What if it's some sick social science project? What if it's some crazy vigilante action, where someone walks around town, dousing sidewalks with drugs laced with god-knows-what?
In the end, I dropped the bag and walked away. All the way home, we were talking about it, and I was battling myself (and Nadine) to not go back and pick it up. It's easy to justify not going back, for many reasons, but also the other way around. Free drugs, right? I mean, who can say no to that?
In my mind now, I picture the ideal owner of the bag. Some guy (or girl) who had bought their first pills, and have a magic night planned. They realize that they've lost the drugs, run back, and are pleasantly surprised to find the bag on the ground, and their evening saved. Of course, this is probably not the truth, but it helps me to not loose sleep over it.
We were walking home from the market, and in the most inconspicuous place on the sidewalk, I see a little bag. This little bad has a ganja leaf on it, much like the bags you get from coffee shops or smart shops here. However, this bag contained no ganja, no sir, but rather four pinkish-red pills of unmistakable type.
I pick up the bag and look at it in my hand. Yep, that's ecstasy alright, no mistaking that.
"Wow", I feel, this is certainly a find of [epic] proportions. Then fear and doubt take me. What if that guy over there with the notebook on the bench is "the law", just waiting for me to pocket this thing so they can rush me off to jail. What if the dude who dropped it is right now turning around and is none too happy with the little fucker holding his drugs, and decide to lay down "the law", as it were. What if it's some sick social science project? What if it's some crazy vigilante action, where someone walks around town, dousing sidewalks with drugs laced with god-knows-what?
In the end, I dropped the bag and walked away. All the way home, we were talking about it, and I was battling myself (and Nadine) to not go back and pick it up. It's easy to justify not going back, for many reasons, but also the other way around. Free drugs, right? I mean, who can say no to that?
In my mind now, I picture the ideal owner of the bag. Some guy (or girl) who had bought their first pills, and have a magic night planned. They realize that they've lost the drugs, run back, and are pleasantly surprised to find the bag on the ground, and their evening saved. Of course, this is probably not the truth, but it helps me to not loose sleep over it.
posted by Markus at
2/06/2007 03:27:00 PM
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1 comments
