The year was 1997. The night New Year's Eve. The party was hosted by my good friend, Julio. A Chelsea loft filled with old jazz musicians, real estate moguls, and Italian vistors. The latter wanted drugs. Cocaine to be exact. I had a connection. The desired amount was an ounce. The dealer gave a rendezvous. He was more than two hours late. I overcharged the Italians $500. They understood and appreciated my effort as well as excused the wait.
"Waiting for my man."
They loved that song.
The wait will never be obsolete.
1 comment:
Happy New Year 2010.
Portugal
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