You shouldn\u2019t smoke this other blunt, and you know it too. But your drunken ass just can\u2019t say no to Sonia, licking the Dutchie with her raspberry mouth, because you don\u2019t see a blunt at all, but imagine something else between her lips, and instead of saying no, you hand her a lighter.<\/p>\n
Sonia is a professional at rolling pencil-straight blunts. You imaging she must be professional at other things too, because that\u2019s how your perverse mind thinks. It doesn\u2019t matter that she can\u2019t cook rice and beans like Abuelita<\/em> does, or that she leaves dirty panties in the tub, or thinks Uruguay is an exotic Malaysian dish.<\/p>\n \u201cWho cares. She can roll the shit out of a blunt,\u201d you convince yourself. That\u2019s all you need to know, as you scheme ways to wifey her. You know you have to catch a flight to Punta Cana in a few hours, but you pass her your Zippo anyway.<\/p>\n You begin to recall the last time you smoked a joint before flying to Miami three years ago, and know you shouldn\u2019t be smoking right now, but Sonia passes you the blunt and you don\u2019t reject it. While she\u2019s blabbing on about the horrendous outfit some chick is wearing across the room, your mind relives that horrible experience three years ago when Amara drove you to JFK and pulled out a joint of some fluffy Purple Kush she got from Julio; and you knew Julio always got that good shit from the Heights, so you just couldn\u2019t say no.<\/p>\n You sucked on the last pull, nearly burning your thumb and flicked the roach out the window as Amara pulled into the terminal. You noticed two white men across the street looking at you and that\u2019s when the paranoia hit hard in your chest. You swore they were undercover DEA agents coming to bust your ass. You couldn\u2019t even fill out the address tag on your luggage; your hands shaking like a rattlesnake\u2019s ass tip. You convinced yourself those two DEA agents and several others followed you onto the plane. You knew they were going to snatch you up when you landed in Miami.<\/p>\n You weren\u2019t shocked to see the two white agents waiting at the end of the walkway as you left the plane. There they waited, next to two uniformed Miami police. Your knees went weak, but you tried to play it cool and walked toward them with your jelly legs. You were relieved when a black guy who was walking in front of you, got pulled to the side for questioning. You continued on toward baggage claim and looked back to see the handcuffs wrapped around the brother\u2019s wrists, and you vowed right then, never to smoke again before boarding a plane.<\/p>\n But Sonia\u2019s lips look so delicious licking the blunt and you just can\u2019t say no. Ivan pulls out a bottle of Mamajuana he snuck into the club. You know you shouldn\u2019t, but you\u2019ll be in Punta Cana in a few hours and decide to take a swig for the old country. Sonia does too. Ivan\u2019s Mamajuana isn\u2019t properly cured and burns at your insides, but all you could think about is how sexy Sonia looks with a little Mamajuana slipping out the side of her mouth, slowly oozing down her cheek and how you just want to lick her face right then and there.<\/p>\n \u201cPuff, puff give muthafucka,\u201d Ivan says in his Ice Cube slang, snapping you back to reality. You think about your impending flight and you really want to just get up and get the hell out of there before its too late, knowing you need to drive yourself to Newark by 5am.<\/p>\n But you don\u2019t get up and get the hell out of there, not because you don\u2019t want to, but because you just can\u2019t. Marcelo just showed up and wastes no time pulling out the yayo he always gets from Jackson Heights. The Colombians always have the best shit and you know that, so you don\u2019t say no to Marcelo\u2019s yayo<\/em>, you take a bump and shoot straight to the moon, going one hundred miles per hour.<\/p>\n You really just want to leave, but now Vania has just joined your little cipher and this shit is starting to get good. It\u2019s too late for you now. The VIP room at Life always gets good after 4am.<\/p>\n You wonder if Vania is thinking the same thing you\u2019re thinking. Wondering if she remembers that night in the men\u2019s bathroom stall at the Tunnel when she wore those red velvet garters only you were lucky enough to slide down her thigh. She offers you a sip from her glass of Don P, which you know you shouldn\u2019t be drinking, but how can you say no to Vania\u2019s cute Russian accent? You sip and pass her the Dutch and wink with an obvious lust in your face that says, \u201cDamn baby girl you lookin good as hell tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n And Vania\u2019s not the only one to notice, but Sonia doesn\u2019t really give a shit, she\u2019s already checking out the male go-go dancer twirling around the pole, wearing a small towel wrapped around his waist. And even though he\u2019s gay and she knows it, \u201ca girl can dream,\u201d Sonia tells herself, and doesn\u2019t sweat your horny ass cause she knows your reputation with the ladies and thinks she might even give you some of her lotus flower when you get back from your trip, but only on her terms and only when she says so.<\/p>\n \u201cSo when we gonna hang out again?\u201d Vania asks. Sonia looks at you and then at Vania with an \u201cooh no she didn\u2019t\u201d kind of look, and that\u2019s when you know it\u2019s really time to run the fuck out of there. Not so much because Vania has just blown up your spot in front of your future wifey, but because the words \u201chang out\u201d remind you that soon you\u2019ll be hanging out on the beach in Punta Cana, sipping on mojitos at the poolside bar, fending off morenita Sanky Pankys<\/em> trying to marry you for your citizenship.<\/p>\n You take your last pull from the Dutchie, because you just need to have one more for the road. You kiss the ladies good-bye. \u201cI\u2019ll see you soon as I get back,\u201d you whisper to Sonia in her ear. You take your Zippo back from Ivan who is just about to put it in his pocket, thank him for the good bud and the smooth Mamajuana, slip Marcelo a $20 for a gram of his Colombian and slide the baggie in your fifth pocket as you drag your box of records across the dance floor, trying to avoid seeing anyone else you might know, because if they offer you a drink, you won\u2019t be able to say no.<\/p>\n You sneak out the club as fast as you can and then wonder \u201chow the hell did I get to the Turnpike so damn fast?\u201d Because you seem to have blacked-out and a time-lapse has just erased a whole block of memory from the moment you left the club, to this exit at Newark Airport. \u201cWhat the fuck just happened?\u201d You know you\u2019re drunk and high and you shouldn\u2019t be driving like this, but you are, and now you speed to the long-term parking, because you\u2019re running late.<\/p>\n Dragging your box of records behind you, a small carry-on strapped over your shoulder, you run to the airline window, check in and think, \u201cDamn. Wasn\u2019t I just at the club with Sonia?\u201d Another blackout, but you have no time for frivolous questions since you need to start running. The TSA security guards always seem to know a passenger is running late. That\u2019s when they become extra meticulous about their job and get thorough with their search. The fact that you\u2019re wearing your leather pants, leather boots, a black leather vest over a black t-shirt, and oversized, dark Dolce & Gabana shades, while holding a ticket to Punta Cana, doesn\u2019t help you get past security any faster either.<\/p>\n After a thorough search and twenty-one questions about whom you are and the purpose of your trip, you finally get through security and sprint to your gate, record box in tow and no seconds to spare.<\/p>\n You see a flight attendant enter Gate 21, closing the door behind her. It\u2019s too late. You run to the door and bang. \u201cLet me in. Let me in. I\u2019m on the flight.\u201d The attendant comes back out. Taken back by all your darkness, she thinks to herself, \u201cWhat\u2019s wrong with mutherfuckin Mad Max?\u201d but instead says, \u201cHow can I help you sir?\u201d<\/p>\n You\u2019re out of breath and the thought of having to get your out-of-shape ass back into the gym quickly crosses your mind, but you don\u2019t have time for trivialities, so you hand her your ticket and attempt to board, but she puts her hand on your heaving chest to stop you and hands back your ticket. \u201cSir. The flight is delayed. We haven\u2019t even boarded yet,\u201d she says sarcastically, while really thinking, \u201cCo\u00f1io. Que maldito bajo a marijuana tiene este loco<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n You turn around to see over a hundred Dominicans and a handful of American tourists, casually waiting, staring at you in silence, but probably also thinking, \u201cWhat the fuck is wrong with Mad Max here?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh. Ok. Good,\u201d you say as you take your walk of shame and find a seat. You should be embarrassed by this spectacle, but you\u2019re not, because you never give a shit about other people\u2019s opinions of you, and besides, all you really want to think about is Maria picking you up from the airport and how scrumptious she\u2019s going to look as the waves wash over her natural D\u2019s, but you don\u2019t think that at all, because you suddenly realize that you still have Marcelo\u2019s yayo<\/em> in your fifth pocket and the same paranoia from the Miami flight three years ago suddenly kicks in.<\/p>\n You imagine Dominican DEA agents all around, staring at you, but they\u2019re really just looking because you look crazy as shit all leathered up on a flight to the beach. You try not to panic and think you need to dump the coke in the trash, but you don\u2019t, because you know there\u2019s really only one proper way to get rid of a gram of coke. You head to the bathroom thinking that you should\u2019ve left the club hours ago, but, you didn\u2019t, and now here you are.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" You shouldn\u2019t smoke this other blunt, and you know it too. But your drunken ass just can\u2019t say no to Sonia, licking the Dutchie with her raspberry mouth, because you don\u2019t see a blunt at all, but imagine something else between her lips, and instead of saying no, you hand her a lighter. Sonia is […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":37404269,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_coblocks_attr":"","_coblocks_dimensions":"","_coblocks_responsive_height":"","_coblocks_accordion_ie_support":"","advanced_seo_description":"","jetpack_seo_html_title":"","jetpack_seo_noindex":false,"jetpack_seo_schema_type":"","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_wpcom_ai_launchpad_first_post":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[1747],"tags":[177,28175,504987,6749,69450,13219981,18038,696583,6200,549837974,166999,124,3785,33202,18,15427,494,40287,620,37774,2213393,349],"class_list":["post-717","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fiction","tag-art","tag-awareness","tag-blunt","tag-club","tag-coke","tag-dea-agents","tag-dj","tag-dominican","tag-drugs","tag-fiction","tag-house-music","tag-life","tag-love","tag-lust","tag-music","tag-new-york-city","tag-party","tag-short-story","tag-society","tag-weed","tag-wilson-santos","tag-writing"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/p2z1Px-bz","jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":360,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=360","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":0},"title":"Djembe","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"November 20, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"Bill has been on the block since Vietnam, and has seen it go from White to Brown. He grew up across town, in a one-bedroom with his mother, when Bergenline was still Italian. He saw the first wave of Cubans come in the late 60\u2019s, and felt right away this\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fiction"","block_context":{"text":"Fiction","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=1747"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":343,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=343","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":1},"title":"Reading fiction at the Literature Lives event – 10\/24\/12","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"October 18, 2012","format":"image","excerpt":"","rel":"","context":"In "Events"","block_context":{"text":"Events","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=924"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/10\/open_mic10_24_12.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/10\/open_mic10_24_12.jpg?resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2012\/10\/open_mic10_24_12.jpg?resize=525%2C300 1.5x"},"classes":[]},{"id":658,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=658","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":2},"title":"NYU Student Films (1994)","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"April 9, 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"This collection of student films was originally shot on 16mm B&W stock\u00a0in 1994, during a 6 week intensive film course at New York University, Tisch School of the Arts where Wilson Santos studied. After years of lugging a green rucksack full of these old film reels from apartment to apartment,\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Film"","block_context":{"text":"Film","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=524"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/img.youtube.com\/vi\/RjjdHtXjcA0\/0.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":20,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=20","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":3},"title":"Judgements & Misconceptions","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"July 2, 2012","format":false,"excerpt":"It\u2019s about 6:15 in the morning. You\u2019re drunk and you\u2019re high. And you\u2019re in Chicago. You\u2019ve just stumbled out of some club. Somewhere. You can\u2019t really remember. And you wobble on down to the corner, scanning the streets around you. You reach out your slumbering arm to hail the first\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fiction"","block_context":{"text":"Fiction","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=1747"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"","width":0,"height":0},"classes":[]},{"id":626,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=626","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":4},"title":"Who is an Artist? (2013)","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"March 8, 2013","format":false,"excerpt":"you are, who sees beauty in a leper\u2019s face when no one else will even glance you who in moments of shame, still smile because \u201clife ain\u2019t that serious,\u201d you say who at night sits in silence to hear the moon\u2019s whisper, because inspiration is born in those words who\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Poetry"","block_context":{"text":"Poetry","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=422"},"img":{"alt_text":"art_paint","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/wilsonsantos.blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2013\/03\/art_paint.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]},{"id":869,"url":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?p=869","url_meta":{"origin":717,"position":5},"title":"Deep and Sexy House Music – DJ MIx","author":"Wilson Santos","date":"April 22, 2014","format":false,"excerpt":"http:\/\/youtu.be\/QNIDagnB_mU","rel":"","context":"In "DJ Mixes"","block_context":{"text":"DJ Mixes","link":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/?cat=286860"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/img.youtube.com\/vi\/QNIDagnB_mU\/0.jpg?resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200},"classes":[]}],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/717","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/37404269"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=717"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/717\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":722,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/717\/revisions\/722"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=717"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=717"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wilsonsantos.blog\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=717"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}