Hello? Can you hear me? Ollie, it is me Frank. I want to buy some weed man.
Who is this?
Ollie it is me, remember?
Meet me at Namesti Miru church in half an hour.
So began one of the most painfully awkward pot purchases of my life. Ollie was starring in his very own James Bond movie. I was doctor Evil and he was going to out fox me in the end. Ollie was a thick set, giant of a Nigerian. I had met him on a drunken Prague night out and he gave me his number promising me marijuana beyond my wildest dreams. I stood, and then sat on the old gothic church steps at Namesti Miru as the minutes dragged along. It was a crisp, bright March day with a screamingly blue sky. I wanted some pot to lift my spirits. Little did I know, that I was being watched. After 45 minutes I got a call.
Hello, this is Ollie, are you a cop?
Yes Ollie, I am a fucking cop. I am standing around freezing my nuts off to bust you for the two grams of bush weed that you have stuffed down your trunks.
So you are cop?
No Ollie, that was a joke.
Ah, ok, meet me at the corner of the square in five minutes then.
Jesus wept, this wasn’t going well. I stood for a full minute debating my next move. This was clearly turning into an assault course purchase, and the question was, do I have the patience for it? A key factor in my compliance with his new directions was the fact that he had weed, and I didn’t. Standing at my new position, I finally saw Ollie walking towards me.
Follow me, Ollie 007 Bond whispered as he walked straight past me.
I had come too far now, I was physically and emotionally invested in seeing this sorry tale to the finish. Around the corner I strided to catch up.
What the fuck Ollie? What’s with all the drama.
They are watching us.
Oh dear, do you not remember me from the other night. We were in that Irish bar doing shots?
Look man, how much coke do you want?
Ollie, I said on the phone I was looking for weed. Do you have some?
Yes, yes. We will have to take a tram though.
On the tram we got. Ollie, sweating profusely now, trying to make light chit chat while maintaining his new ambition of selling me coke.
Coke is a lot of fun, he said.
I can see from your current state that you are having a hell of a laugh I thought.
No thanks Ollie, coke isn’t really my style.
Half the city later we arrived at a rasta bar. Ollie said it would be polite to buy a beer before we got the weed. I had wasted the last couple of hours, and to be honest, I deserved a beer. We sat in an empty green and gold Jamaican themed dive bar. The bar man and DJ (yes there was a DJ at 3:30 in the afternoon) were staring at me like I had walked in with ebola. In my mind, I knew eventually this day would end. I just didn’t know how or when!
Ollie got the nod from the barman. They both disappeared into the tropical darkness as I thankfully sipped on my cold, familiar Pilsner beer. It is times like this when you wonder, is this worth it? Yes I like getting stoned, but at what cost? The government thinks it is bad, you know what, maybe they are right. I mean they wouldn’t just straight lie to . . .
Ollie came back with a big grin. A coke grin which I hope at least included some weed for me.
Here you are my friend.
He had done it, Ollie 007 Bond had defeated his paranoia and successfully obtained marijuana for a broken spirited customer. What a guy.
Do you want to smoke with us? I had evidently passed some obscure test.
Smoke with two coked up dudes that just made me jump through pot hoops, well I guess it would be rude not to !!