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- Growing Up Bronx
I was never a pothead, nor have I ever consumed any mood altering substance heavily throughout my life. However, I’d be lying if I said I’ve never smoked weed. I did a few times as a teen, and a few as an adult. Problem is that nowadays, I can’t buy weed anymore. It is a good thing I don’t smoke it regularly.
Back when I lived in my old neighborhood, acquiring marijuana was not a difficult task for me. I’d get $5 or $10 for my nickel or dime bag, and go to the corner and talk to my man Puffy, or any other number of individuals. You knew them, they knew you, and the process was understood.
Eventually, I moved from my block, and grew up. Anyone who knows kids, knows how they can quickly change in appearance in a few year’s time. If you don’t keep in contact with someone, they can easily not recognize you anymore. Such was the case with my man Puffy.
After I moved out, I would seldom come to the block, and when I did, I stopped by to visit a few friends, their parents, and kept it pushing. I didn’t hang out in front of the building or kick it with the people I barely knew.
One day, we wanted to try and puff some of the good stuff. So I knew where to go, and who to talk to. The problem was that this person got older, as did I. When I approached and greeted him, he looked at me like a total stranger. I said, “Puffy, you don’t remember me? I lived in that building, on that window.” He replied something along the lines of “Me no know your bloodclot ass. You look like a pig to me and me no got nothing for you, you hear.” He was very firm and hostile in his manner of speaking to me, and rather than pushing my luck, I just left.
I walked away, feeling dejected and embarrassed, and returned empty handed. “Yo, Puffy didn’t recognize me man, he threatened me and cursed me out. Come down with me so he can see I’m cool.” They weren’t having it, “Nah man, we don’t want him to see us with you, then he’ll blacklist us too. We’ll go alone, you stay here.”
After that day, I realized that I’d have to resort to my white friends in order to ever get weed. Fortunately, I knew a lot of white potheads, and they could get some really potent stuff for me if I wanted it.
Good thing I don’t smoke weed regularly, because it seems as though my old avenues have been sealed off.
Growing Up Bronx