There I was, minding my own darn business, in the heart of Cornell University's college town. Young men and women, mostly of drinking age, were pouring out of bars in the hundreds, migrating like swans to new party scenes. Yes, it was finals week. And yes, I'm in high school. I walk along the microcosm of urbanism, down the street, and finally am accosted by a giant guido and his hispanic friend.
"Hey you got a light?" He said.
"Nah, sorry." I say. "Hey yeah I have one." Says my friend.
He lights the guido's cigarette. "Hey you know, you guys can have some free meth, or some free crack. Just to show thanks for lighting me." Says the guido.
I am now in shock. We don't say anything. He continues to try to pitch us extremely felonious drugs. "No thanks, we finally manage to say." At that moment, a cop car rolled by, and the guido made eye contact with the driver, smiling and waiving. It was then I knew. He was undercover. My town of 15,000 people have under cover cops trying to sell drugs to college students. What has the world come to. We walk away.
Sparknotes: Undercover cop tried to sell me crack, scary ass shit.
RIP Friends. That show was there for me through the times I watched from the couch, to the tougher times where I watched from a loveseat or even the floor.