off topic, but on topic, but off, oh the days
damn, rach, your posts always bringing back my memories...I remember crazy eddie....do you remember "two guys" that came out around 89--banging shit, absolute justice to the deterioration of the mind.
Funny that you say spoons...i remember more than one time, down in Hell Park (named by locals, not real name) when people would patch in money to buy bundles. One time in particular--around 1989/90, everyone was anxious and waiting for a dealer to roll down. There must have been 30 heads waiting at different spots in what is a small park (the park occupies the end corner of a park and has a small pool, handball courts, and some paths).
Anyway, we had smoked the last bag we had (hell park wasn't only a spot to cop or to organize to cop [finding a ride] but was also a smokeout joint for dust). All of the sudden, a large black sedan pulls up: out rolls four of the most Hollywoodesque gangsters, all dressed in black, black caps, black jackets, black gloves. The one guy yells "fresh diesel" and everyone forms a line...keep in mind, one of the gangsters pulls an uzi out from under his jacket. We wait in line and the guy is scooping it out of a huge cup (this was spear-mix, which was prevalent during my dust days [87-91]).
The 3 friends I am with are 3rd or so in line and get our dust. The dust is scooped with a tablespoon into whatever we hold up--I held up a potato chip wrapper. We pack our individuals bowls and light up. As this is happening, I see a guy fall down, and looked like he ODd on some dope. I was not waiting to sit around, since this park had sweeps often, but my legs were dust astronauted, so I collected my friends (another 10 minutes just to convince them to leave), all while I am taking hits from my bowl.
As we start toward the exit and toward the car, a white guy goes up to my friend and says "what the fuck". Of course, my friend can't even answer. The guy punches him in the face twice, and before you know it, one of the gangster backup dealers throws the white guy who hit my friend against a car (the cars are parked right on the street, if you know the park). Car alarm starts blasting, and the guy who shoved him to the car pulls out another Uzi and says "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING WITH OUR BUSINESS FOR? GO BACK TO JERSEY, FUCKIN DUST HEADS".
I grab my friend who just got hit, and we run/walk to the car. As we are walking, slow motion, I try to break the metal pipe, and say, I AM DONE WITH THIS SHIT. Of course, I couldn't break the pipe, and I simply manage to cut my entire hand up. My other friend is like, can I buy your tablespoon (the dust denominator that I had), I was like "fuck that, after this situation I need to smoke this." Resolution completely failed.
And here is how crazy good dust it: we drove three blocks and realized we wanted retribution. How could those fucks punk my friend. We were going to go back--fortunately, we got lost, and ended up going back out the holland tunnel. But yea, dust dreams, dust nightmares. Thanks for the memories with that post, rach.