Note to self: don’t buy drugs on the street. Probably should’ve been a given but, hey, don’t knock it till you try it, right?
Let’s backtrack a bit. It’s the night of the NFL conference championship games so J and I are at one of the only places showing the games: The Hippodrome, a large casino that is also home to Magic Mike Live (Wish I could tell you more about that, but with tickets costing £200 I wasn’t about to go see it). Because of the time difference and the last game going into overtime, we weren’t out of the casino until about 3:30 a.m. On the way out J asks if I want to buy weed before we go home.
“Yeah, sure! Is someone coming to meet us?”
“Nah, but I know the look, I can spot someone.”
Oh god, okay… I think to myself as we walk out.
Now, being a single woman who is slightly intoxicated at the wee hours of the morning, I’m not about to walk home by myself. So I’m sort of stuck with J in this drug dealing business whether I like it or not. Not that I didn’t want to pick up, I did, but I wasn’t really keen on the whole buying-from-a-stranger-on-the-streets thing. However, I figured what the hell, when in London, and followed J out.
As I stood around waiting for J to make the deal (I was the one with the cash but didn’t really feel comfortable being present for the negotiations) I noticed there were a lot of people loitering about. Looking back, I assume they were all drug dealers. Turns out right outside of a casino is not the place to pick up dope. Makes sense, all the dealers only had coke and MDMA. Who would want to buy a relaxant while trying to stay up all night to make back the money they lost? No one, they want uppers so they can keep losing.
Finally, J finds someone who says he has weed. We start walking toward some scaffolding to make the deal. A homeless man starts harassing me for money.
“Please, I’m an American, too! You see, I have brain damage and just want to get home, can you please help me?”
The dealer and J tell him to back off as I think to myself, that is the worst American accent I’ve ever heard. He continues to pester me as we try to make the deal.
“That’ll be thirty quid.”
“Oh man, I only have twenties,” I say as I pull out the money.
“That’ll do.”
Before I can react he takes the money and puts something in my coat pocket. I take it out and find its a tin foil ball.
“Yo, that’s not weed. Take it back.” J starts to argue with the dealer and tries to get our money back as I come to realize that I just bought crack for the first (and last) time in my life. A bottle breaks and the homeless man (yes, he was still there pestering) and the dealer freak out and run.
“Yo man cut it out! There’s cops all around!”
I watch as my crack and forty quid are lost as he runs away.
Well, that did not go as planned. We continue walking home. I’m bummed that we didn’t pick up and that all my money was stolen, but I’m also relieved that we’re finally going home. I was exhausted at this point. As we walk another homeless man comes to us and offers to hook us up with someone to sell us weed.
“No thank you, we just had all of our money taken.”
He doesn’t listen and, as he is walking in the same direction as we are, we can’t lose him. As we come up to the theatre where Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is showing the man grabs another guy and tells him we’re trying to pick up. In the background two homeless women are fighting.
“Fuckin’ loonies.” chides our unwelcome middleman.
“Yo, you want weed? I got weed.”
We continue to walk and tell the new dealer that we have no money. He doesn’t listen and follows behind us.
“Yo, I got weed. You want weed? You want weed?”
J tells me to continue walking and not look back. He doesn’t want to buy from him because he doesn’t look trustworthy. I don’t want to buy from him because we have no money and I want to go home. He continues to follow us, repeating the same thing over and over until he finally gives up and turns back.
At this point I am thoroughly freaked out and just ready to be off of the streets. As we continue to walk home a pair of men walk past us.
“Hey, they seem like they’d have weed, should I ask them?”
I shrug my shoulders, “We don’t have any cash.”
J calls out to them. Turns out, they do have bud and are willing to sell some to us. Score! J asks if they know where an ATM would be and we walk back the way we came. I start to feel a little less nervous as we walk with these men, they turn out to be pretty chill dudes. One of them (His name is Buffalo) just celebrated his birthday. They had been up since Saturday partying and were just coming down from their roll.
As we walk past the repetitive dealer we had just ignored I feel super awkward. There we were, having said we didn’t want to buy anything, walking past him with two new dealers. He gave us a look but didn’t say anything.
When we reach the ATM, J’s card doesn’t work.
“Oh man, can you try? I’ll pay you back.”
Now, I am already super uncomfortable using ATM’s in foreign countries but in front of drug dealers to boot? But we had already been with them for over ten minutes, I felt like we couldn’t turn them away now. And they had gone around the corner to talk so they couldn’t see me anyway, so I went for it.
“So, they are definitely scheming back there,” J says to me as I fiddle with the screen, “So this time we get the drugs first and then give them the money.”
I nod as I read that the smallest amount I could take out was £50. You’ve got to be kidding me. Again, we made it this far, there’s no turning back. So I take it and and immediately hand it to J.
“You deal with it this time.”
We go around the corner to meet back up with Buffalo and his friend (His friend was obviously the leader of the two, but I can’t remember his name). They ask where we live and before I can stop him J responds. Fucking idiot. I think to myself. We start walking home again as we chat with the two men. They had offered to roll up with us so we would know it was good weed and was safe. This made me much more comfortable. As we continue to walk and chat I start to feel much safer. We’re with two native Londoners who seem to be pretty badass and like our company. As long as they didn’t screw us over, I felt like they sort of protected us from anyone trying to prey on easy American tourists. As we walk they point out where we should and shouldn’t smoke or make deals. Stay off the main roads when smoking but be careful not to get mugged in alleyways was the gist of it. When we get to the corner that we usually turn to get to our tube station they stop at a step.
“This is where we’re gonna roll up.” Buffalo’s friend sits down. “Come, sit, sit.”
J and I sit on either side of him and he motions for Buffalo to join, but he continues to pace around the sidewalk, probably still hyped from whatever it was that they were coming down from. Buffalo’s friend gives J a baggy of weed (which, now that I know he gave him all of the fifty quid I took out, was not nearly enough), as I start to roll.
As we roll up two spliffs (Ew, but it seems like tobacco is inevitable in Europe), Buffalo’s friend tried to explain the difference between weed and skunk.
“One’s got the chemicals and one doesn’t.”
“Hold up, there’s chemicals in one of these? I don’t want that one.”
“No, no, like the THC,” Buffalo chimes in.
“So one’s only got CBD?”
“No, they both have THC.”
“Then what makes them different?”
“One’s got the chemicals,” repeats his friend.
This continues for a while and I still don’t fully understand the difference. I came to the conclusion, though, that there weren’t any actual chemical chemicals and that one strain is stronger than the other. We somehow get on the subject of arrest records. I can’t remember which one, but one of them casually brought up the fact that they had been arrested for burglary (looking back: red flag).
After the spliffs were rolled we continued to walk as we smoked. The first puff hits me like a ton of bricks and I worry that there were actual chemicals in there, but then I remember the tobacco and figure I just got a hit with more tobacco than weed.
We finally make it back to the hotel and as we part ways Buffalo’s friend gives J his number and says he’d normally invite us back to the crib but Baby Mama’s asleep with the kids, but we should hit them up if we’re ever in London again. I give them each a hug, at this point I would consider them friends, and J and I go inside.
After all the shenanigans that went down, I’m too restless to sleep so J and I hang out for a while. We don’t actually make it into our respective beds until around 8 am so needless to say, we both sleep all day.
When J finally wakes up, he discovers his debit card is missing and everything that had happen falls into place in my mind. Here is my interpretation of what happened: When J put in his pin, one of the men saw, and grabbed the other to go scheme around the corner. Instead of scheming about gypping us with the drug deal like J had thought, they were scheming to take his debit card. As we were sitting on the step rolling the spliffs, Buffalo’s friend snagged it from J’s pocket (throwback to when one of them said they were in jail for burglary). Then, after saying goodbye, they went to the nearest ATM and took out as much cash as they could.
And this, kids, is why you don’t trust strangers, no matter how much weed they give you or how many times they tell you you’d look banging in Adidas.
Let’s backtrack a bit. It’s the night of the NFL conference championship games so J and I are at one of the only places showing the games: The Hippodrome, a large casino that is also home to Magic Mike Live (Wish I could tell you more about that, but with tickets costing £200 I wasn’t about to go see it). Because of the time difference and the last game going into overtime, we weren’t out of the casino until about 3:30 a.m. On the way out J asks if I want to buy weed before we go home.
“Yeah, sure! Is someone coming to meet us?”
“Nah, but I know the look, I can spot someone.”
Oh god, okay… I think to myself as we walk out.
Now, being a single woman who is slightly intoxicated at the wee hours of the morning, I’m not about to walk home by myself. So I’m sort of stuck with J in this drug dealing business whether I like it or not. Not that I didn’t want to pick up, I did, but I wasn’t really keen on the whole buying-from-a-stranger-on-the-streets thing. However, I figured what the hell, when in London, and followed J out.
As I stood around waiting for J to make the deal (I was the one with the cash but didn’t really feel comfortable being present for the negotiations) I noticed there were a lot of people loitering about. Looking back, I assume they were all drug dealers. Turns out right outside of a casino is not the place to pick up dope. Makes sense, all the dealers only had coke and MDMA. Who would want to buy a relaxant while trying to stay up all night to make back the money they lost? No one, they want uppers so they can keep losing.
Finally, J finds someone who says he has weed. We start walking toward some scaffolding to make the deal. A homeless man starts harassing me for money.
“Please, I’m an American, too! You see, I have brain damage and just want to get home, can you please help me?”
The dealer and J tell him to back off as I think to myself, that is the worst American accent I’ve ever heard. He continues to pester me as we try to make the deal.
“That’ll be thirty quid.”
“Oh man, I only have twenties,” I say as I pull out the money.
“That’ll do.”
Before I can react he takes the money and puts something in my coat pocket. I take it out and find its a tin foil ball.
“Yo, that’s not weed. Take it back.” J starts to argue with the dealer and tries to get our money back as I come to realize that I just bought crack for the first (and last) time in my life. A bottle breaks and the homeless man (yes, he was still there pestering) and the dealer freak out and run.
“Yo man cut it out! There’s cops all around!”
I watch as my crack and forty quid are lost as he runs away.
Well, that did not go as planned. We continue walking home. I’m bummed that we didn’t pick up and that all my money was stolen, but I’m also relieved that we’re finally going home. I was exhausted at this point. As we walk another homeless man comes to us and offers to hook us up with someone to sell us weed.
“No thank you, we just had all of our money taken.”
He doesn’t listen and, as he is walking in the same direction as we are, we can’t lose him. As we come up to the theatre where Harry Potter and the Cursed Child is showing the man grabs another guy and tells him we’re trying to pick up. In the background two homeless women are fighting.
“Fuckin’ loonies.” chides our unwelcome middleman.
“Yo, you want weed? I got weed.”
We continue to walk and tell the new dealer that we have no money. He doesn’t listen and follows behind us.
“Yo, I got weed. You want weed? You want weed?”
J tells me to continue walking and not look back. He doesn’t want to buy from him because he doesn’t look trustworthy. I don’t want to buy from him because we have no money and I want to go home. He continues to follow us, repeating the same thing over and over until he finally gives up and turns back.
At this point I am thoroughly freaked out and just ready to be off of the streets. As we continue to walk home a pair of men walk past us.
“Hey, they seem like they’d have weed, should I ask them?”
I shrug my shoulders, “We don’t have any cash.”
J calls out to them. Turns out, they do have bud and are willing to sell some to us. Score! J asks if they know where an ATM would be and we walk back the way we came. I start to feel a little less nervous as we walk with these men, they turn out to be pretty chill dudes. One of them (His name is Buffalo) just celebrated his birthday. They had been up since Saturday partying and were just coming down from their roll.
As we walk past the repetitive dealer we had just ignored I feel super awkward. There we were, having said we didn’t want to buy anything, walking past him with two new dealers. He gave us a look but didn’t say anything.
When we reach the ATM, J’s card doesn’t work.
“Oh man, can you try? I’ll pay you back.”
Now, I am already super uncomfortable using ATM’s in foreign countries but in front of drug dealers to boot? But we had already been with them for over ten minutes, I felt like we couldn’t turn them away now. And they had gone around the corner to talk so they couldn’t see me anyway, so I went for it.
“So, they are definitely scheming back there,” J says to me as I fiddle with the screen, “So this time we get the drugs first and then give them the money.”
I nod as I read that the smallest amount I could take out was £50. You’ve got to be kidding me. Again, we made it this far, there’s no turning back. So I take it and and immediately hand it to J.
“You deal with it this time.”
We go around the corner to meet back up with Buffalo and his friend (His friend was obviously the leader of the two, but I can’t remember his name). They ask where we live and before I can stop him J responds. Fucking idiot. I think to myself. We start walking home again as we chat with the two men. They had offered to roll up with us so we would know it was good weed and was safe. This made me much more comfortable. As we continue to walk and chat I start to feel much safer. We’re with two native Londoners who seem to be pretty badass and like our company. As long as they didn’t screw us over, I felt like they sort of protected us from anyone trying to prey on easy American tourists. As we walk they point out where we should and shouldn’t smoke or make deals. Stay off the main roads when smoking but be careful not to get mugged in alleyways was the gist of it. When we get to the corner that we usually turn to get to our tube station they stop at a step.
“This is where we’re gonna roll up.” Buffalo’s friend sits down. “Come, sit, sit.”
J and I sit on either side of him and he motions for Buffalo to join, but he continues to pace around the sidewalk, probably still hyped from whatever it was that they were coming down from. Buffalo’s friend gives J a baggy of weed (which, now that I know he gave him all of the fifty quid I took out, was not nearly enough), as I start to roll.
As we roll up two spliffs (Ew, but it seems like tobacco is inevitable in Europe), Buffalo’s friend tried to explain the difference between weed and skunk.
“One’s got the chemicals and one doesn’t.”
“Hold up, there’s chemicals in one of these? I don’t want that one.”
“No, no, like the THC,” Buffalo chimes in.
“So one’s only got CBD?”
“No, they both have THC.”
“Then what makes them different?”
“One’s got the chemicals,” repeats his friend.
This continues for a while and I still don’t fully understand the difference. I came to the conclusion, though, that there weren’t any actual chemical chemicals and that one strain is stronger than the other. We somehow get on the subject of arrest records. I can’t remember which one, but one of them casually brought up the fact that they had been arrested for burglary (looking back: red flag).
After the spliffs were rolled we continued to walk as we smoked. The first puff hits me like a ton of bricks and I worry that there were actual chemicals in there, but then I remember the tobacco and figure I just got a hit with more tobacco than weed.
We finally make it back to the hotel and as we part ways Buffalo’s friend gives J his number and says he’d normally invite us back to the crib but Baby Mama’s asleep with the kids, but we should hit them up if we’re ever in London again. I give them each a hug, at this point I would consider them friends, and J and I go inside.
After all the shenanigans that went down, I’m too restless to sleep so J and I hang out for a while. We don’t actually make it into our respective beds until around 8 am so needless to say, we both sleep all day.
When J finally wakes up, he discovers his debit card is missing and everything that had happen falls into place in my mind. Here is my interpretation of what happened: When J put in his pin, one of the men saw, and grabbed the other to go scheme around the corner. Instead of scheming about gypping us with the drug deal like J had thought, they were scheming to take his debit card. As we were sitting on the step rolling the spliffs, Buffalo’s friend snagged it from J’s pocket (throwback to when one of them said they were in jail for burglary). Then, after saying goodbye, they went to the nearest ATM and took out as much cash as they could.
And this, kids, is why you don’t trust strangers, no matter how much weed they give you or how many times they tell you you’d look banging in Adidas.