Stories about your dealer

In my first year at UBC, I only smoked weed at parties, mooching off someone else

passing a joint around.

But in my second year, my roommate and I decided we wanted to a) break free from needing to interact with other humans at parties and b) be self-sufficient and mature adults.

Basically, I needed a drug dealer and I could only think of one place to find someone to fulfill these needs — a party.

So, I went to a friend’s party in hopes of finding someone to carry me into this next phase of adulthood.

After a bit of networking, I was set up with a cell phone number and a nickname in

my phone. Having absolutely no natural aloofness when it came to buying drugs, we

awkwardly texted in code about “g’s”.

We settled on meeting at the Nest despite my own anxieties about being revealed as a casual, recreational drug user to all my classmates and professors in the most visited place on campus.

While sitting on the large basement stairs, she slid over to me and asked “Want a coffee?”

Heart pounding, I took the coffee and started to laugh at the nonchalance and normalcy.

Our encounters continued on like that for the next year —us meeting up in extremely

public places — like Buchanan D or next to the fountain and she would give me an assortment of “coffee” and “snacks” all with baggies of weed inside. One time she

asked me if I could throw a tissue out for her, and I nearly did before realizing there was a bag of weed wrapped up inside it.

Although we no longer do business, my first drug dealer taught me how to

“chill out” —with the assistance of purple kush — and when life gets a little awkward

just add some props, a handful of conspicuous locations and have fun with it.