1 post tagged “north gate tavern”

the last night i was in baton rouge, i met up with dan and micah at the northgate tavern.

when i walked in, they were engaged with a tattooed, shaved headed fella at the end of the bar.  i sat next to micah and started complaining about the fact that my mom wanted to come to chicago for my orientation at columbia.  i was saying how i really didn't need her to do that, and how i was 23...damnit.  dan and the other guy stopped talking to pay attention to what i was saying.  the other guy spoke first.  "whatchu gonna do about it?"

what do you mean?

"well, y'know.  i just got out of prison today.  i'm staying at my mom's.  and y'know what i told her as soon as i got back to her house?  thank you, mom, but i'm going to a bar and i'm getting drunk."

really?

"yep.  and that's whatchu gotta do, too."

at this point, he lost interest with me and continuted his conversation with dan while micah filled me in on the details.  apparently, this guy really did just get out of jail that day.  apparently, he got caught with 3 pounds of pot and went straight to jail without passing go.  but, now, he was asking dan and micah how much he could sell weed for in baton rouge (he was arrested in arkansas), because he had 26 pounds buried across the street from his house.  so he's getting back in the game.

i was intrigued.

so what happened, man?  i'm intrigued.

"well, you see, i had been talking to this guy's daughter that i was selling to.  and he didn't like me talking to his daughter, he just wanted my weed.  so one day i was at his house, talking to his daughter, and he comes out to tell me to get off his property or he's calling 5-0.  so i told him he didn't seem too mad earlier when i he was buying my weed.  so he called the cops on me."

micah, dan, and i are silent.  this is FOX's COPS come to life.  large, in high definition, and sharing beer with us.

"so i go home and this dude comes over, cause every once in a while...and this ain't no lie, i don't usually fuck with the shit...but, this dude...he came over with a few pounds of coke.  he wanted me to sell some, but i told that dude no.  i told him to leave, cause the cops were probably on their way over here, so he did.  but the cops got him when he was leaving, and he said everything was mine.  so, y'know, the cops come in my place with their guns drawn and all that...my little girls in the fucking room and shit.  and, see, they busted me with the 3 pounds i had in my house, and i only had those pounds in my house 'cause my cousin wanted me to sell him 3 pounds that night.  they don't know i got a bunch more shit buried across the street."

jesus.  this guy is serious.  i can't believe this story.

"but, so i got out after 3 years today.  and now i'm staying with my mom, here in baton rouge.  and i been sitting at this bar for a while, talking to your friends here.  they're pretty nice guys, they been telling me how much i can get for the shit i still got in arkansas."

i never did get the guy's name.  and i'll probably never talk to him again.  but his story sparked a few conversations between the three of us at maya's later that night.

three years for selling weed?
should i feel sorry for this dude?
i mean, he is kinda an idiot.
but his wife left him and he can't see his kids anymore.
are you actually going to call that number he gave you?
i mean, he wants to hang out.  i'll hang out, right?
at a bar, maybe.
yeah, no.  i'm not inviting him over or anything like that.

that's how i spent my last night in baton rouge.  talking about a confessed ex-con, and how fucked up it is that he knows he has no future because he's an ex-con.  so the way he sees it, he has to keep selling weed.  there is no other solution.

because there kind of isn't.