This Is a True Story

This morning an old Irish man told me several things: he loved America and had lived there for forty years, that his name was Tom Dooley (like the song), and that smoking pot makes you empathetic. He also informed me that his decision to smoke pot was the best the he had ever made in his life and was rather shocked that I myself did not smoke it.

I decided that I would got into town this morning and get some tea, probably write in my journal, maybe write some postcards. Wandering down Strand Road, I saw a little cafe that was actually open (on a Sunday!), so I went in. I ordered tea. An old man (Tom Dooley, of course) invited to buy my breakfast if I would sit and talk about America with him. Of course I wasn't going to say no. "It's going to be a real, cultural experience!" I thought. Which it was. In a way.

He told me about working for American Airlines, and how he had lived all over the U.S. After we'd been sitting there for about 20 minutes this is what he said:

"Don't let this question ruin our friendship, but do you smoke marijauna?"

I said no. He then proceeded to tell me that he had been smoking it for forty-five years and tried his best to convince me how great it was. I listened politely (hey, he was buying me breakfast) and smiled and nodded in the right places. At the end of our conversation, he gave me a napkin with his name and phone number on it. Just in case, I guess.