Tonight Sleepless and I met up with Calling The Dog and other friends to celebrate a work promotion.
We arrived to find Calling The Dog had invited another one of our friends to join us and knew, immediately, we were in for a good time.
We brought in our own wine and champagne and immediately began drinking. As we did, Calling The Dog’s friend started disclosing.
Based on the line of work we all do, disclosure is something with which we are very familiar. That said, there are times when disclosure still catches us off guard. Tonight was one of those times.
“I’ve got some pot at home. I’ve also got some hashish, or whatever it is called. My cousin brings it to me,” Calling The Dog’s friend told all of us at some point during the evening – most likely a few bottles in.
“I’d love to have you all come over and smoke it with me,” she kindly offered and added, “Listen, I’m a single woman in my 70s, I’ve got nothing to lose.”
She then told us about her experiences in the West Village during the late 60s and early 70s – from ‘dating,’ to dancing to doormen.
“He’d get me high, he’d make me jell-o, he did light shows.”
“I used to do a lot of modern dance and thought the moves were really cool but then I remembered I was smoking a lot of pot.”
“The doorman was the dope dealer. He’d get us pot and speed.”
As the evening came to a close her restless leg syndrome kicked in so she pulled out her bag of pills and said, “I’ve had a couple of drinks and now I’m taking two dopamine, I’ll be out soon.”
As Sleepless and I drove away from the meal, laughing about all of the conversation, Sleepless quickly rolled down the car windows and said, “She had two dopamine and I just farted.
Within seconds we went from ‘hotbox’ to dutch oven.
I thought some things were private between us.