The Triangle

Issue date: 6/6/08 Section: Arts & Entertainment

Media Credit: Karl Kuchs

It's not every day you get a call from your friend telling you he has a ton of money that he has to spend quick. Well, with Rube, it happens more often than you think, but still, he called me up and told me we were going to Atlantic City. I didn't ask him where he got the money. I didn't want to know, and Rube didn't really want to tell me. That's what's great about Rube. He's fine with getting his own hands dirty, but doesn't want to make anyone an accomplice. I had some work to get done, but it's rare for me to get the chance to gamble with someone else's money. And the fact that he told me I could keep anything I won made it a no-brainer for me. So I threw on my lucky black shirt (you see, I have a sneaking suspicion that black is my lucky color), and told him we had to stop at a liquor store first. I needed to pick up some Gonzo Imperial Porter. I could tell this was going to be an eventful trip.

So me and my friend Rube finally got on the road to New Jersey, the land of no left turns. He drove. The body of Rube's car is black, just like my drink of choice. The car is a convertible with a white soft-top. With a flick of the switch, the white roof slowly crept down until it was almost out of sight. I noticed this just as I was pouring by beer after we passed exit 12 on 42. The porter was doing the same thing. Just like the white roof of the car was coming down, so was the white collar on the beer. It's as if the two were connected somehow. I figured it would do me good to remember that fact. Rube told me it was illegal to drink and drive. I reminded him that he was the one driving, so we had nothing to worry about.

Just as our little conversation about the nuances of DUI laws was finished, he lit up a fattie. I'm talking Cheech and Chong proportions here. After I chuckled a bit at the sheer comic size of the thing, I reminded him that it was illegal to smoke and drive. He smarmily replied that there is no law on the books that says you can't smoke and drive. It was an oversight because they assume you shouldn't be smoking anyway. I didn't quite agree with his logic, but I'm not one to complain. I loved smoking with Rube because he never pressured me to try any. He knew I didn't smoke, and it was always his view to not to advocate the stuff, even though it always worked for him. Since the top was down, I couldn't even smell the acrid olfactorial nonsense. All I could get was the sweet aroma of the black stuff in my hands, made up of vanilla, licorice and earthy pine.

Continued...

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