It's Hot Indeed Sir

                     It was a boiling hot summer day in Philadelphia.  I was sixteen, and so was my friend Dave. Dave was driving his 76' Buick Skylark. We were two young men full of life on a innocent quest. A quest to find drugs. Nothing too crazy, just some weed. At this time neither of us knew many dealers. So if no one was around to buy from we did the next best thing, coup in the street. Which looking back was a very unwise decision. Two white kids from the suburbs are fresh meat. Since it was the middle of the day and we wanted to smoke we opted to take a risk because we had done it many times before.

                

                     The first area we cruised was Pike st. which usually had a couple guys selling shitty dirt weed dime bags. No dealers appeared to be selling there wears. For about fifteen minutes or so we drove around with the windows down waiting for the call of "weed", weed",  I got dat shit. No luck.

                  Just when we about to abort our mission and return home in defeat to our friends, A glimmer of hope shined down to a dirt abandoned. "What yall need, man", A young black kid, a few years older then us asked.  Dave parked along the curb. We quickly debated to safety aspect of the situation. It was decided that Dave would do business with this young entrepreneur.

               

                      They walked through the lot towards a back alley at the back of a building. Dave asked for four dimes, the young man said, " I got dat wet". Dave had no clue what he was talking about. Dave insisted that he needed some weed. They talked back and forth. " Man come on it's hot out", the guy finally told Dave. Dave told em he understood the weather was hot and that he was indeed hot too.  You see my friend David here was not up to date with street slang. Years of Gangster rap had given me the knowledge to understand the young man was in fact not commenting on the weather, rather he was informing Dave to the fact that there were cops all over.

                       When he returned to the car I inquired on how it went. He opened his palm and showed me four small jars. Inside was a deep black tobacco looking subsistence. Dave explained he felt rushed and was told this is weed and it's hot so hurry the fuck up. This shit is wet. What the fuck is wet Dave asked. Dust, PCP, wet, all the same shit. I could tell he was disappointed. I interjected that this shit was weed just soaked in something that would make us feel like we were walking on marshmallows and feel like we were superman. 

                      And so concluded the first part of our Wet Adventure.