A little weed, so much trouble!

I worked with a guy Nathan. He's a good guy, working in Reno last I heard. His dad is my dentist, and I'm currently AWOL so I'll find out more once I go see the good doctor. Nathan was also a major player in the great snowball debacle, which I haven't had the time to blog about yet.

Once, his church decided to take him along on a mission trip to Mexico. I was talking to him before he left, and we had this conversation.

"I'm going to buy some weed!" He said, as if such a thing were impossible in the states, or even in our restaurant, depending on the delinquents we employed at the time. I've seen a few "good buds" while working there, although I can't tell you what makes any particular bud better than any other.

I thought he was joking, so I said, "Yea, you should."

"I will." He said.

A week later, he showed up again and said, "I did it!"

"Did what?" I asked, completely forgetting about his nefarious plan to purchase weed in Mexico.

He showed me the baggie, a tiny Ziploc baggie with some green stuff at the bottom that looked like parsley. In case your wondering, I don't remember if it contained good buds or bad buds.

He told me the story. It was pure Nathan. Moments after arriving in Mexico, they bought a beat up VW bug for two hundred dollars from some Mexican guy in the street. It ran well enough, until the crashed it, to get them to some other Mexican in the street who sold him the tiny baggie of weed and suggested storing it in a tin can of Folders coffee in order to trick the border guards on his way back to the USA.

NOTE: Good advertising campaign for Folders: "Folgers, stick your weed in it."

They left the VW bug in the street and went home. Apparently there was some missionary type work in there somewhere, but I suppose it wasn’t interesting enough to relate to me.

The dog at the border took particular interest in his bag. There was a lot of sniffing, but no alert. He got through and ended up standing back in front of me holding a tiny baggie of weed.

"What are you going to do with it?" I asked.

"I don’t know." He admitted.

The baggie haunted him, "Either smoke me man, or give me to someone who will!" It begged. He decided he'd get caught with it if he didn’t get rid of it, but he'd spent good money on it and it seemed a waste to just throw it away, or give it to someone. So he took it to school and sold it. Yep, my friend Nathan became a drug dealer.

The kid he sold it to actually did get caught. He admitted to his mom that Nathan had sold it to him and Nathan's mom was the proud recipient of a phone call informing her that her son was a drug dealer.

The gig was up, he told his parents.

Word got back to the church and he had to stand up on Sunday and explain to the church why he smuggled illegal drugs into the country and sold them at school instead of performing his churchly duties. He wrote a speech, and it started like this:

"Who would have thought that a little weed could cause so much trouble?"