"Dude, I just saw my dealer!"

That's what I heard from a guy in line for the bathroom. I'm guessing he wasn't talking about his car dealer. If I'm right, he had no reason to be shocked in any way because he was at a Widespread Panic concert. If there was ever a place to run into the person that sells you drugs, it's there. I didn't mind being around it, it's pretty expected. The band takes an intermission to make sure the fans don't get too smashed up and dehydrated. I won't go again if it's in a closed venue like that, too hard to see and breath. Most of the people around us had pipes, and one guy in front had some white pills, nothing I recognized as OTC. I wondered how much time, energy and money has gone into getting me to say no to drugs. Those around me would have been happy to share, but I had no desire, but I don't know what to credit my disregard for the substance, and what made them give in. I don't know if it was D.A.R.E. or Nancy Reagan, but I'm glad it worked.