Everyone else went into the back room, but I stayed and talked to the cashier. I figured, he’d be less likely to rip me off if I started a rapport. I wasn’t sure how much weed cost in Amsterdam; this was the first place we went, and it didn’t exactly look legitimate. But who knows? Maybe that’s how they all are over here. The cashier told us that we had to buy a drink if we wanted to smoke in the back room. I picked up a can of Green Drink - yes, that’s what it was called really. He had skin the color of coffee and cream, he wore a skull cap and had a beard tied with a ponytail holder. I asked him how long he’d been working there, what the difference was between the various types of bud, where they sourced it from, how he got into the business, etc. The rapport paid off; he let me sample some new kush he’d gotten that day, some strong stuff. He’d sell me two joints for the price of one. I accepted, of course. Who knows, he could have still been cheating me, but at that moment, I thought we were friends
