I got back in the late 60's, just the right time and the right place for a guy like me.
I landed in a place in which I always wanted to live~~San Francisco.
When I hit the ground, I had enough $$ to get me into and keep me out of trouble.
Since I got really good at doing drugs of all sorts, I knew this was the place for me.
Making money was easy in the Haight and, I knew just how to do it.
In the then & there of the times, the label of "drug dealer" had a less sinister connotation.
He or she was your "connection".
Well, I had a couple of those who were good and, since I knew how to turn a profit, I became a connection, albeit extremely selective.
Back in those fun times, a lid, which is now called an oz, was $10.
I doubt many of us would spend what an oz costs today.
Acid was a couple of bucks a hit.
Speed was popular and was called meth or methedrine like in the song, "I'm Just Wild About Meth".
So I bought what I bought in quantity and sold smaller.
Within a week of hitting the ground I had wheels and a pad.
For a few days I wound my way through the Haight.
It was a fun scene butt, I didn't want to live there.
I found a neat little house in a back yard of another house in the Sunset district.
This was/is a few miles removed from the Haight and a neighborhood in which a guy like me was less obtrusive.
There were a lot of Japanese people there who kept to themselves butt were friendly just the same.
I liked it there.
I love women. I have always loved women thanks to a "cougar" I met when I was 13 in the Chicago burbs.
She was 18 and. to a 13 year old boy, she was very "instructive".
I learned a lot from her and it has served me quite well in the succeeding 59 years which went by too goddamn quickly.
At least my memory hasn't left me without those neat and nasty wonderfully erotic little things she taught me.
Imagine, being a cougar at 18, years before the meaning was invented.
What is it with labels??
And older guy with a young woman is a lecher.
An older woman with a young guy is a cougar.
OK, it works for me.
Hippie chicks were everywhere and just wanted to experience everything.
I'm easy to get along with, easy being the definitive term;~)
I had been in San Fran for a few months and, since I've always been a scenery nut, I enjoyed all the tourist places and views.
I used to walk on the bridge to look at the bay and feel the sea air. I did a lot of things like this.
They wouldn't allow anyone to walk there at night and that is understandable butt, the night sights and lights would have been great.
One of those afternoons while I was on the bridge, I saw a young girl or "hippie chick" standing at the railing.
She wasn't exactly like the other hippie chicks I'd seen.
She had a neater and cleaner aura or appearance.
She seemed like she was young, about 18 or so.
She was fairly pretty so I stood there checking her out.
I noticed that she was crying and was kneading the railing with her hands.
She was chewing on her lip and, since I was were I was for the past year and a half, I knew what was going on.
I was about ten feet from her and, after watching her thinking about it, I said, "Can you imagine how it would hurt if it didn't kill you?"
After a few more seconds I said to her, "Must be a lot of people who want to go back up after they start falling. There's no going back."
We just stood there and looked at each other for what seemed like forever butt was only 10 or 15 seconds.
She was crying openly now and I walked up to her and gently took her hand without saying anything.
I remember the times when I just wanted someone to be there without words and I thought that was the right thing at the time.
She was little, about 5'1" or so.
I was a little over 5'7".
After what seemed like an eternity, as I leaned against the railing, I asked her, "Well, what do you think?"
She looked down at the ground and said softly, "I don't know."
I knew I had to go slow with this. I remember what I had to do in another place for the last year and a half and, it was not pretty then.
At least she wasn't all busted up and bleeding, sometimes bleeding to death in a guy's arms.
My mind and heart hate going back to that other country butt, it's part of this true story.
I made myself talk to her about a couple of experiences and how a couple of guys who wanted to die, found some sort of release in going on. Mostly because they just had someone who sat there and listened or just held them.
For those who don't know the reality of these things, you don't know how lucky you are.
I could see that she was calming down some and I told her my name and asked hers.
It was Nina.
She said she was 17.
How sad is it that someone so young even thinks about doing that?
Next: What happened~~~~