Funny/sad/ridiculous drug story:
Early 80's. I smoke a bit only a couple times a year when it's going around at a party; never really got into the kind of high it gave.. kind of oppressive.
BF and I plan a camping trip up to Canada. BF is a kind of more-nervous, less-obscene version of Howard Stern, i.e., smart, fast-talking, snotty. We get to the über-polite über-straight Canadian border guard: "What's the purpose of your trip?"... BF: "to Visit your Beautiful Country!"*
=> Start getting seriously peeved at BF..
Border guard sizes up this borderline flippancy and decides to investigate. "would you mind opening up your glove compartment?" So he looks through the glove compartment and finds.. a little wooden marijuana pipe (BF's) that he has "forgotten" there for weeks/months..
=> Start getting seriously pi**ed off at BF
So.. they obviously go through ALL our stuff, everything in the trunk, inspect the car and take us into the little office. I get female agents; he gets male ones in another room. They understandably ask a ton of questions and I am happy/relieved to answer them all honestly in the negative. I have no pot. (I've never even had pot in my house or on my person, ever..).* I have no other drugs, never been arrested, yada, yada, yada.. Then comes the good part, 'cause they make me take off all my clothes, bend over, and spread 'em.*
* The severe, yet polite, lady agents seem almost as embarrassed and uncomfortable as I am.. almost
=> At this point I am really f**ing pi**ed at BF.
I wait around for 30-40 minutes and an agent comes over to me and says "you are free to go, but we are holding your BF because he had a controlled substance hidden in his shoe". WTF?!?!??!*
* Turns out it was a tab of acid. He had never taken LSD. I
had never taken LSD.. He'd decided unilaterally that it would be a good idea to do so out in the Canadian wilderness without telling me anything about it
=> There are not obscenities enough for me to describe BF at this point.
So, I am stuck in a small town in Canada with no car (impounded). A border agent is kind enough to drive me to a motel. BF has a hearing scheduled but it's Thursday or Friday and he has to wait until after the holiday weekend until the next day that the magistrate is slated to roll into town (Wed., I think), since they only have one magistrate for the area and he makes the rounds of different towns on different days. Okaayy...
I spend the better part of my 'vacation' holed up in a no-frills motel with nothing to* do. There's no bookstore, no real restaurants to speak of, the "mall" is basically a supermarket on the outskirts of town with maybe a sporting goods store attached. At the supermarket I get what magazines there are, and am able to sample the range of unique Canadian potato chips flavors, like "beef" and "ketchup".* The highlight of each day is when I walk to a Pizza-Hut-type restaurant for dinner.
Each day I visit the BF in jail, bringing him magazines and newspapers. I had never pictured my life as including visits to someone in jail, but there I am. The "jail" is a couple of cells in a police station on a suburban street in the midst of all the houses, not "downtown". The cells are very clean and everyone is scrupulously polite. BF has had the occasional drunken cellmate sleeping it off, but otherwise nothing to report.
One odd thing I notice while walking "downtown" is a scruffy paraplegic guy who is always 'stationed' at the same place every day on the sidewalk. He's wearing a green military overshirt and is quite obviously THE DRUG CONNECTION FOR THE TOWN! People are always sidling up to him and making little, poorly-masked, 'transactions'!
Wednesday arrives and the BF is told to pay a few-hundred-dollar fine. (Needless to say, I have to go to the ATM and use my
cash for this.. can't remember that he ever paid me back.) Then we are FREEE to continue our journey in the land of lawn ornaments (New Brunswick) which was odd/discouraging in other ways that have nothing to do with drugs, so I'll end the story here.
KIDS: JUST SAY "NO"!*
* .. to idiot boyfriends (girlfriends).
And.. P.S... don't carry around a pot pipe if you don't have any pot to go with it!