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2 weekends ago I was down in West Palm hanging with old friends, including my buddy Dave who was one of the guys I started dipping with originally almost 30 years ago. (I started when I was 15 and quit when I was 41). We were hanging at a place on the intracoastal that was one of my regular haunts for virtually all of my 30's. Sunshine. The water. Alcohol. Good food. Good friends. Great memories. Peter Tosh on the jukebox. Wooden decks and palm fronds.It was the kind of day at the kind of place that made me wonder why I ever left South Fla....It was also the kind of day at the kind of place that in the past meant a big fat wad of Skoal packed back in there by the molars. I mean a nice juicy one - the kind where you work up spits that taste so good and fly so straight you can spit it into a straw at 20 feet. After a while that green can appeared in Dave's hand. My old companion. This was the kind of moment that was enriched by tobacco.....If ever I was to be tempted this would be the time. I mean fuck!! It's like a rewind to 2000 or so! Let's get it on!!!!!! Fuck that - I didn't bat an eye. I didn't wish I could have one. I didn't crave. As a matter of fact - I looked at my friend of 30 years as he packed in a big monster and I thought "you fucking stupid ass Dave". I wanted to grab his can and throw it in the water. You can't save the world though...and he isn't ready to quit. He's in the clutches of Queen Nikki. A nasty lying bitch. A deceiver. I was there for 26 years before I woke up. It's a good feeling. As I looked out at the boats after seeing that can, I thought how thankful I was that I don't use that poison anymore. NAFAR.
