This particular story happened before the show in the lot. A bunch of my friends and I made the voyage from Clarkson University in Potsdamgood, NY. The plan was to meet up with my brother for some betty boop hits, in order to heighten the evening's enjoyment level. After about three hours of searching, I finally met up with my little bro. 

Here’s where it gets interesting! He was already gone out of his mind, nearly peaking, on four of the glorious treats. About that time, he hands me several individually-marked packets, each labeled 1, 2, 4, 7, corresponding to the number of betty’s awaiting to be consumed inside.

My friends gathered in a circle, and one by one they handed me cash as I handed them their prize. Now picture this, I have a handful of hits, definite intent to distribute, and a handful of money. My buddy Jonathan whispers, “PIGS!!” and I nearly shit myself. I look up and two policemen are walking towards me, about ten feet away! I think to myself, “should I run?” As I begin to sweat profusely, I realize I best wait and see what happens. I slowly bring my hands in towards my body, and pray. 

The police are about one foot away at this point, and I calmly say, “good evening officer.” The one cop responds with a good evening back at me, and the two keep walking right past me. We all look at each other and can’t believe what just happened. I was so damn happy, I began to ingest three betty’s myself. Moral of the story: be polite to the police and you won’t spend years in jail for swinging…., well you get the point.

 - JGB