On Tuesday night after work I was going to a friend’s, and had the pleasure to ride the 16 bus, which was carrying me west through Denver on the notorious Colfax Avenue. The bus was packed to the max, so I therefore also had the pleasure of squeezing myself into a seat in the back of the bus (one of the seats that face a row of seats directly across the aisle.)
Sitting directly across from me was a cute young man of mixed nationalities in a nice Special Blend snowboarding jacket; his fur-lined hood was on his head and he had cute little dreadlocks poking out. Soon a big, fat Latino hustler got on the bus and sat next to a different young guy near the back of the bus and I watched him flash the young guy something in a dark brown box, but the guy said he wasn’t interested. Then the hustler turned around and was eyeing everyone in the back of the bus…I could tell he was profiling, and looking for someone that might be interested in the product in his box.
His eyes locked on the dready across from me.
“Do you have a rolling paper?” The hustler asked the dready, and the dready immediately produced a pack of papers from one of his jacket pockets and handed them over.
“Do you smoke?” The hustler inquired.
The dready confirmed.
“I’ve got some hash for sale,” the hustler said, and the dready proceeded to check out his product.
At this point the hustler moved to the seat directly next to the dready, but before he sat down he displayed his case to all of us back of the bus riders and tried to make a sale. He was trying to sell watches, on the back of the Colfax bus, to crackheads, a guy talking loudly on his cell phone who repeated about seven times in the his conversation that he was “on his way to Wal-mart,” an old senile woman, and myself, who hasn’t owned a watch since Gathering of the Vibes festival in 2006.
I did not witness him sell any watches, but he did secure a hash deal after sitting next to the dready. The dready said he was down to trade for some hash, and even though the hustler didn’t know what he would be getting traded, he got excited at the prospect and said he would get off at the same stop as the dready to do the deal, and he would even buy the both of them a beer if the dready so desired. The hustler went on to say that his “mother owns a dispensary” and that’s where he got the hash from.
I didn’t get to see his product, but I can only assume it was some black blob of butane-extracted garbage. I wanted to tell the dready not to get off the bus with the hustler and not to buy his crappy hash, and I wanted to tell the both of them that I had arguably the best hash in town in my pocket at that very moment, but I thought it best to refrain from any sort of personal conversation with hustlers on the Colfax bus and watched the two new amigos get off together at the dready’s stop.
It’s been said before and I’ll say it again, “You can get anything you want on Colfax Avenue…”