So, I don’t even know if D.A.R.E. (Drug Abuse Resistance Education, baby!) is still around, but when I was in 4th grade or so, it was still going on. One of the skits taught us that drug dealers did not have our best interests in mind. In fact, they would give us drugs for free in order to get us addicted! Those bastards.

Fast forward to high school — 9th grade to be specific. 9th grade was, as it probably was for (I hope, please?) everyone, a weird time. You’re meeting new people, you’re trying to figure out which clique you belong to, your voice is changing, and you’re discovering that girls have boobs, which are awesome. During operation: find your clique, I dabbled in a bit of everywhere. I had long hair, dressed in flannel (Yea, Eddie Vedder!), listened to loud music, was a good student, wrote poetry, was on the track team, played in the band…where there was marching involved. I was a heck of a lot of dork, but also had the rebellious thing going on that got me accepted into a lot of weird and random circles. The track part also made me part jock, which got me invited to parties and kept me cool…ish. The smart thing got me in with the cool smart kids, the latino thing got me in with the hot latina girls, and the dork part got me into the dorky group (though I’d like to be clear with the fact that I have never played D&D or those card game things).

So that’s the background. Now, being involved in the grungy/angry group of people, I knew a bunch of drug dealers and smokers. But while I hung out with them and we chilled after class, I wasn’t involved in that stuff. Until the day of our story. My friend, Tak the drug dealer, offered me a bag of pot. (!) And then he said it was all mine for $30. Now, I can’t adjust for inflation and the truth of the matter is that I have no idea how much $30 of marijuana even looks like. But that’s really not the point because I was taught that in order to get us addicted, the first round is supposed to be…wait for it…for free.

“Um. It’s my first time,” I hinted to him. Maybe he thought that, what with my awesomeness and long hair and awesome taste in music (yeah, Pearl Jam!), I was a pro with respect to using massive quantities of drugs and was in need of a new dealer. That’s ok, I figured, as soon as he understands that it’s my first time, he’ll give it to me for free like he’s supposed to.

“Yeah, ok. It’s $30,” Tak responded.

I looked at him quizzically. Obviously there has been a serious mix-up. Is he playing hard to get? Didn’t he watch the same D.A.R.E. videos in 4th grade? I decided to try again.

“Right, but, you see, I’ve never done drugs before,” I say while winking at him.

Things went downhill from there.

“Look, it’s $30. Do you want it or not?” He said impatiently.

Now, I don’t know about you, but if you’re supposed to be giving me free drugs then a) you don’t charge me $30 for it, and b) you certainly don’t get snippy with a potential life-long client as was taught by D.A.R.E.

Tak and I parted ways that day — he convinced that I was trying to hit on him and I convinced that I wasn’t going to get ripped off on my first drug deal.

All thanks to D.A.R.E.