I wasn't thinking about drugs, but apparently drugs were thinking about me. I hadn't given Bella a walk this morning, but instead decided to do so at lunch, which is why I found myself walking her down Broadway at 4 p.m. I was zeroing in on the Carl's Jr. - I could see the entrance a short distance ahead and was vectoring in on it - when a man walked up with a large, sturdy plastic bag - the sort you'd find containing 50 pounds of wood chips at Home Depot - and said, "Do you want to buy some weed?"
Startled, I said "You have weed in that bag?" He said "Best shit ever! Here take a whiff," and pushed a big handful of fresh green serrated leaves in my face. Wow, there was a lot of pot in that bag! I replied, "Uh, that's OK, I don't smoke," and resumed my push to the hamburger joint. Still, I was surprised. Sometimes you see people smoking pot publicly on Sacramento streets - now I guess they're selling it too. Times are in flux! Santa Claus in May? More like Rasta Claus, dreaming of a green Memorial Day.
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