Here’s the first, “damn, I feel old” moment of 2005.
Being Aden Darity’s media assassin means handling some other tasks, like being his assistant coach for a rec league basketball team. Now, the kids are really cool, but they’re not quite that good. It’s okay, though. When kids are 16 or 17 and sign up to play rec league ball, they’re doing so because they really just want to play. That’s to be commended. Plus, even at rec league, they get girls to come and watch them. No small feat.
But Aden and I showed up late to this game, probably two minutes into the game. As Aden got to the bench, one of the scorekeepers tapped him, pulled him close, and then said…
“Some of the kids on your team are high, especially #24.”

Now, here’s the thing…the team name is the Dutch Masters. Their team colors are yellow and black, so when they break from huddles, they either say, “Waffle House” or “Pass that Dutch.” There’s a kid on the team I call Sneaky Pete. Sneaky Pete’s your run o’ the mill white boy, save for the fact that he’s white, got locks, and plays ball with a red, yellow, and green Lion of Judah wristband.
So were we surprised that the kids toke up here and there? Of course not.
But when the lady said that some of the boys were high, she was being charitable…damn near every last one of them was high. High as birds, man. #24 was so high that I was laughing at him being high, and all he could do was look confused. In fact, when we got there, I think everyone but Sneaky Pete and two other guys weren’t high. Sneaky Pete wasn’t even playing…he said he was sick. Halfway through the game, Sneaky Pete goes to the parking lot with some girl and comes back with his head ducked and a bad case of the chuckles. Another cat was on the bench with a broken arm, and he was so blowed. They were so high, so flagrant with it, that you could smell it in their clothes. That’s right…you didn’t smell sweat. You smelled dank. Shit, halfway through the game, some kid came and say on the bench with a hat that said “DANK” on it, tryin’ to tell me that “no one knows what that means.”
See, that’s one of the funny things about teenagers. They seem to think that slang terms for herb are new or something, or that grown folks have never been around weed before. Ain’t like they just developed weed in a laboratory in 1992 to commemorate Dr. Dre’s The Chronic. When they show up places high, people know. People just let them slide. This time, it was a problem because they were being held against me and Aden. That’s right, Aden and I, 23 and 24 years old, respectively, were responsible for the drug use of teenage white kids. What are the odds?
(Another discussion all together was that they played their best ball that day, losing the game in the fourth quarter when, presumably, they started to come back down)
But do you know how old I felt looking at all those red eyes, having to be the heavy? OK, Aden was the heavy…I told them to at least use Febreze or something. Discretion is a great way to stay outta jail, kids. Remember that.
And just then, we think the night is done….NO.
So, the lady that pointed the kids out decides to thank us for talking to the kids, but then she starts talking about how she knew the kids were blazed.
“Look, I used to smoke that stuff back in the day. I know what it smells like. You can use Visine, but that don’t work. At least wash your hands or use some cologne or something….”
She rolled for a while on that kick, but then she hit us with the ultimate…
“I smelled that boy, and I was like, ‘oh, they got that fo’ sho’ killa!”
Now folks, “killa” is a relatively new term for herb. So, when she says, “back in the day,” was she referring to today?
But really, there is only one overarching moral to this story…it’s gotta be grrrrrrreat to be white, man. Had Aden and I showed up blowed, this post wouldn”t get made until next week. And I wouldn’t be making the post on my computer…someone would have had to pawn that to bail me out of jail. My friends are broke, and the grown folks I know that could bail me out would not do so for that charge, believe you me.