Back in the 80s, when the world and I was young, I was in the Bay Area for a summer. Call it the summer of love- I was there for that purpose alone. The boyfriend at the time was the scion of a wealthy doctor and his scary, crazy wife.
One night, doctor dad brought an intern home for dinner. Dinners were quite the event. Expensive food, expensive wine, and plenty of pretentions. I wasn't in my element, and felt like I was an exhibit at the zoo.
Intern brought current girlfriend. He also bought gifts for the hostess. These were a very large box filled with tins of black Russian caviar. And an exquisite fillagree silver box in a larger velvet box. Expensive, expensive.
Intern was pretty nice, girlfriend was cute, and a magician to boot. It was one of the more relaxed dinners with the parents.
Afterwards, I found out that intern was the son of the head of the Syrian military. And then I found out what that entailed. Scary, scary. That was the summer I got to meet drug dealers (coke, not the usual MT stuff) for the first time. Also scary. Boogie Nights brings back some not too pleasant memories. Fucking Night Ranger...
So which was scarier? The son of the scariest guy in town, or the dealers? It was a draw at the time, but with hindsight, the intern by several miles.
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4 comments:
I vote for the dealers. They had better access at hurting you, should you have crossed them.
The Syrian? Eh, not so much. Even if his connections could easily be traced back to Hafez al-Assad, what was ultimately going to happen? You really think the Mukhabarrat would've bum-rushed you?
Nah.
Always the Dealers. Always.
Ya know, upon reflection, the answer is neither. The scariest person I met that summer, and possibly ever, was the mother. She was a truly vile, monsterous creature, whose nastiness only became more apparent with time. She coulda taken the Syrian on and had him for hors d ouvres. Ditto the coke dealers.
yea well...mothers are like that.
Luckily not mine. This woman was poison. She was about as destructive as Medea, without the actual murder. I do not exaggerate. I am ever thankful that I never have to see or speak to her again.
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