Maybe it was just the weed?

HH, I like yer style dude.

I got a coulda been focked story to add here...two fourth of July's ago, TS Artie swell in the water. In order to avoid traffic, and crowds, and be on it w just the homies, I leave the house at about 3:30 am. Flying up 95, highway was wide open, sometimes my foot gets heavy. I knew it wasn't going to be all time, but the prospect of 4 foot barrels in July gets my man parts going...

Naturally, gots me a spliff for the ride. Well, I'm burning said spliff, driving about 85...approaching a major bridge, and right in the little thicket of brush on the median, I saw that dreaded front end of a crown vic. Dude was dug in like an engorged tick, hidden real well. I didn't have a chance to even take my foot off the gas, and i was rippin that ish as I drove by him. I immediately knew I was getting pulled over.

I realize I cant pull over on the bridge, so I toss the spliff, open my windows, and get as much air into the truck as I could. Sure enough, I see them lights flashing behind me. Fock. So I pull over after the bridge, look in my rearview, and my eyes looked horrible. Like I was having a stigmata after 5 spliffs horrible. My heart sunk, I was gonna miss the swell.

State trooper approaches my window, asks me the expected questions, tell where I;m going, etc. Asks for my license, hand it to him. Next question: any weapons on you? I really started to sh!t. I said I didn't, then he tells me I gave him my ammo card. Give him my license, a few minutes pass, then he comes back.

Technically, dude coulda taken my car right there for reckless driving...coulda also probly stuck me with an impaired charge. I assumed the worse. He walks up with this smile on his face, kinda reminded me of the cop in cheech in chong, that wanted a bite of the hot dog. Anyway, he says, "I don't want to completely ruin your day so"...all he stuck me with was a 90 dorrar infraction for failure to obey state traffic law. Not even a f'n speeding ticket. I don't know why I was graced with such a break, but I was. I looked him dead in the eyes and thanked him. And as I began to finish the ride, of course i prepared another spliff. But I didn't speed when I smoked it.

...maybe it was the weed.

 

Hey, I thought you said you didn't do drugs like the Galbraiths...?

 

You were a cop, Barry?

Jeez, does the amazement ever end?

So, you were slacking around Puerto Rico...a drug dealer(big pharma employee)..and now you were a police?

Hey, you know any cops these days? Like, who access to the evidence room?

He just became a State Trooper for a bit.....

Ha, imagine Michu slut leaks info that there's a lot of drug talk on here, bails, and Barry is a D E A agent assigned to get us.

However, in true Point Break-fashion, Barry, after learning some surf phrases like, "Chest-head and glassy..37 F" has grown some affinity or infinity towards us and is having a Sophie's Choice moment.

I am a D E A agent....

 

Forget about it kid, they're ghosts...

 

E trades...law enforcement.."six foot Maria's"

Barry Fumunda Cudda does it all

Hey when I quote words I really be quoting one of youz

Like that last quote was from MIStard he's so core and knows all dat sheitt

 

late 80s (when weed was still highly illegal everywhere), went to a neil young concert with a bunch of druggie acquaintances. I wasn't smoking weed much at the time, but they had joints burning constantly on the way to, from and during the show...I was stoneder than sh!t.

On the way back home, we stopped at Denny's and it was packed, so we all had to sit at the bar thingee. Before we even order, the guy from our group with the weed quietly realized he didn't have enough money to buy food and, without even asking us if we could chip in, he stands up, blatantly displays the little corner bag of shake he had left and announces to the entire restaurant, "Who wants to buy this weed?" Surprisingly, someone across the restaurant immediately yells out, "I do" and they do the transaction standing right there while everyone is watching (I was so stoned, I wasn't nearly as concerned as I should've been...and it all transpired so smoothly). Even more bizarre is we then calmly order our food, eat and leave without anyone saying anything to us or calling the cops.

 

Thankfully this happened over five years ago, or Barry would be coming after your friend.

After a certain hour, EVERYTHING is legal at a Denny's. An American classic.

 

Life has phases; I have cruised through quite a few of them in my long time on this globe. The only constant for me has been first, my family, second, surfing. All else has been a phase. Been fun. But I have one more to go through, as we all do.......

 

Thanks homie.

Great story! I remember that swell.

 

Sophomore year in college. Our dingy apartment on the bad side of town. Pretty Saturday, so in the AM about twelve of us gather at our place and drop. Beer is like water after that, so by the mid-afternoon we had drank it all. Smoking constantly and still had that, so that was good. We try to get more beer, but it's just not working. Just not possible with everyone in that state of mind...herding cats just doesn't even begin to do it justice. Then someone finds the show Lancelot Link Secret Chimp on the TV. For y'all that don't know, it's a live action secret agent show...with chimpanzees (sample below).

[video=youtube;Q9hwZotllHc]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q9hwZotllHc[/video]

So we're all standing up watching this show (no idea why we were all standing), just mesmerized. There's several cases of empty cans around, but no one has a beer in hand, and then there's a knock at the door. Absent mindedly I say "come in".

A cop walks in, and says, "I didn't think you'd want me to come in." All of us turn, saucer-eyed, mouths agape. I mean we didn't even have the stereo on, why the fock did someone call the cops?

It must have been a strange sight to him, bunch of guys standing around a TV watching Lancelot Link Secret Chimp, beer cans everywhere, but no one is drinking.

He asks who lives here. "Me," I reply.

Cop: "Where's my papers?"

Now I would have been confused by this had I been in a normal state, but in the state I was in I was utterly perplexed.

Me: "Uhhhhhhh....what?"

Cop: "Where's my papers?"

Me: "Uhhhh, I have no idea what you are talking about sir."

Cop: "You sure about that?"

Me: "Uhhh, yes...I don't know what you're talking about."

Cop: "Gonna be a real shame if I have to drag someone downtown to find my papers."

Me: "Sir, honestly, I don't have a the faintest clue what you are talking about."

He pulls his flashlight out, walks over to the couch, shines it behind the couch, and pulls out a pack of JOB 1.5s.

I'm utterly dumbfounded. I didn't even know they were back there. In fact everyone there had the same expression of bewilderment.

Cop: "Step outside with me."

At this point I'm sharting my pants, convinced I'm about to get cuffed and stuffed and spend a long night in jail with the kind of buzz that just don't go away.

I step outside.

Cop: "Where I come from a man's home is his castle."

He hands me the papers then says, "Have a nice afternoon. You might want to close the windows though, that smell gets around."

He walks away. I go inside, still trying to no avail to process what just happened. My friends are freaking, as they thought I was getting hauled away too. Told them what he said. Then I asked, "anyone know how the fock he knew those papers were behind the couch?".

No one knew. To this day it remains a mystery.

It wasn't our last run-in with the cops that day...and it got even weirder. To be continued...

 

Back in the early 80's a buddy and me were going to spend a New Year's weekend surfing and camping at K-38 in Baja, so we rolled a couple bones of Yerba for the trip and get to the Point on a Friday afternoon.

As the evening rolled on, the lot above the Point started resembling a clown show of spazzes from LA and other locales...maybe the most crowded I've ever seen the spot. Idiots drinking cervezas, smoking yerba, screaming and lighting fireworks...generally being typical Ugly Americans. Then the Federales showed up, closed the gate to the lot and started hassling every single Gringo in the joint. Everybody was literally freaking.

Well, we had burned an apres-surf fatty not long before, leaving us with one solo precious hooter left. My buddy had the presence of mind to pick up a dirty old crushed up paper cup and quickly stashed the illicit substance inside and tossed it away from my '64 Splitty just as the the cops rolled up on us. Of course, they found nothing. Shaken like a couple of teenagers looking at hard time in a Mexican hoosegow, we quickly gathered up our stuff (sans hooter) and beat a hasty retreat back to the border.

Fast forward 6 months later:

We find ourselves checking the Point during the summer, our first time back since that dreaded day. Nobody else is there. Now, this was during the whole "Paraquat Scare" year, for those of you who remember. Weed was practically impossible to find, and whatever schwag was available was pure junk. Needless to say, we had been dry and not-so-high for an extended period. It flat-out sucked.

While checking the surf, we both recounted that horrible New Year's Eve in that same spot, and how sweet it would be to be able to catch a buzz right now.

So my buddy is like, "Hmmm" and slowly walks the lot looking at the ground like a crack junky looking for a rock in a carpet. After about a minute, he picks up a nasty old paper cup...EUREKA!!!

Found Treasure has never been so Suite.

Maybe it was the weed...

 

Y'all a bunch of high-dog, pothead, hippy surfers.

Sorry, but all my tales of debauchery (what I can remember) were alcohol-based.

A "musta been the booze" thread?

 

Now that's how you tell a stoner surf story. Take notes kids.

 

Good tale, Kid!
But you're dating yourself with the ref to Paraquat. I remember those daze.

 

Lol Dos, sometimes you gotta give a piece of yourself when weaving Tales of Yore. Geez, those paraquat days sucked sweaty balls...I was so pi$$ed at Reagan for that (and re-instituting "Selective Service").

Here's another tale of the Yerba Buena y Lindo Mexico:

Me and the same buddy, trekking Baja one fall afternoon in search of "liners"...circa 1984 (after the story above). Still not having learned our lesson, we huffed half a hogleg after making it through the border and head south on Mexico 1D, the coastal toll road. I save the other half, and in my "wisdom", I hide it inside the lens of my overhead interior light between the front seats.

So we're coming up to La Fonda, which is about 60 kilometers south of Tijuana. As we wind around the corner in my trusty 1964 VW Bus, a local Mexican cop ("Judiciales") comes around the corner in the opposite direction. I can't speak for everybody else, but even to this day, whenever I see a Mexican cop I immediately get the nervous farts (quiet and stinky). And sure as $hit, he and his "compa" whip it around and light me up.

So, I'm fairly baked and freaking HARD. He tells me that I was "speeding" (in a VW Bus, while he's heading in the opposite direction with NO radar, but whatever) and to follow him to the station. So me and my buddy are soiling our seats and pull up to this stereotypical Mexican Cop Shop...about 100 square feet of sloppily-patched adobe with 1 desk, 2 cells and all dirt floors. Three other Judiciales come out and start grilling me about "Donde esta la mota", "Where's the weed", etc. "I don't have any, I don't have any" I keep repeating with a nervous smile. So two of the goons put me and my buddy in one of those tiny dirt cells with a steel door and port hole and shut the rusted hulk, then return to help 3 others ruthlessly root through my van while I helplessly watch through the porthole. I'm thinking, "We're done. We're never gonna get out of here. I don't know anybody with the kind of money that's gonna get me out of this $hit. Game over, man...GAME OVER."

After about 15 minutes, one of the goons opens the cell and lets us out. We gather with the 5 Judiciales while the oldest and fattest starts talking with me. "You were speeding." HOLY $HIT, THEY MUST NOT HAVE FOUND THE HOGLEG. I knew what was coming next...sheepishly, I replied "OK, how much is the fine?" Ol' Gordo replies, "$30 dollars". I start farting quietly again because I didn't have that much with me. I say, "Senor, I'm sorry but I only have $20 dollars." He says "Give me what you got."

So I give him the $20, which consisted of mostly small bills. He took $12, gave me back $8 and told me I could leave.

IIRC, I tossed the roach out the window as soon as I got out of sight.

Maybe it was just the weed?

 

^that's pretty bad...lucky you got out so quick.

 

Seriously brah, it seems like I have cheated "death" in Mex so many times...a cat has 9 lives, so maybe I've escaped 8 times lol. It seems like my best weed stories have happened in Mex, but I spent a lot of those years in a Spicoli-like fog so I sometimes have difficulty recalling all the crazy crap that happened during my youth.

But, yes...I always managed to get out quickly by the skin of my teeth. Never spent a single night in a Mexican jail, although I've probably spent at least several hours in the back of Mexican cop cars during my ventures...while they were doing their "field adjudication" while trying to figure out what the hell they were going to do with me.

Believe it or not, my experience was always way worse with the US Customs jerkoffs after coming back from Mex. Go figure. I have another half dozen stories about those pricks.

 

You certainly have my respect.

 

PR vacation 3 years ago. Every year i leave my stash behind a fridge or hot water heater or some hidden spot i know wont get messed with. After spending the day at the beach a heavy rain shower rolls in. I had purchased some fresh goods at sandy beach but left it in the car in the pocket of the door. The soft rack allowed water to dump in the car right in the pocket. So much that it pooled up a good 2 or 3 inches. soaking the ganja.
We went back to the house and decided we would hit the rum shack for happy hour and some raggae band. The house was loaded w rugrats, 12 in all and i wanted the old stuff behind the fridge. We set up a rooftop dance party in the rainstorm to clear the house and get my old stash. I Had to pull the appliance out to do the search. The bag fell behind a cabinet but i sniffed it out. Anyway we score and head out after thr storm passes. We decide to take the long way so we can smoke up along the way. As we cruise the hills leading down to antonios we spot a herd of turkeys. My buddy is an avid hunter an unbeknownst to the rest of the car can speak their tongue. He stops the car sticks his head out and starts gobbling! the turkeys go nuts! all in unison the gobble back. The car erupts w laughter as the turkeys and he have a conversation for what seemed like a half hour. In between my friend would translate. He asked if they knew what the swell would be doing? According to my friend they told him it was going to be better up north. They then asked if we could bake them out. He sent them a few puffs. Their wasnt a drt eye in the car as we pulled away.
Must've been the weed!!!!

 

I'm very familiar with the area, it's funny picturing this story hahaha