^
Keep New Times Free
4

How I Accidentally Became A Drug Dealer

pacinoscarface.JPG
Courtesy of Universal
Sheaface
[Editor's Note: In his column Serrano Time, award-winning scribe and goofball Shea Serrano writes about his life and times.]

By Shea Serrano

The biggest concern in my life recently is that every show on my DVR is the regular definition version, rather than the high definition version. As you can see, things have almost always been nice and easy for me. Which is why, as you might imagine, it was strange when I accidentally became a drug dealer in college.

It went like this: My college, located in Huntsville, Texas, had a billiards club, which I'm just now realizing is incredibly nerdy. I'd begun playing a lot of in high school, but in college I flourished. My brain just understood what was supposed to happen without anyone having to explain it to me. And so it became ALL that I did, for like two years straight. Gambling was a natural extension of that.

I started out playing pool for $5 or $10 on campus, and eventually for money in different areas of town. I even began traveling to other cities in Texas to find new players. I'd usually go with two or three other people. We'd drive one or two or three hours to pool halls in Houston or Austin or Dallas or San Antonio and set up games. It was fun.

But back on campus, at one point they closed down the pool hall temporarily, to rebuild the student center or something. In the downtime, I took to cards and bowling and anything really that I could gamble on. That's when I started running a football board hustle.

This is something I'd seen my parents and uncles and aunts participate in. Basically it's a numbered grid that people use to wager on the outcomes of football games. (Note: People looooove betting on the Dallas Cowboys.) But what I learned is that if you ask people if they "Wanna buy a square?" some will think you're talking about marijuana.

On our dorm room phone system, if you had a message your dial tone went beep-beep-beep rather than the usual baaaaaaaaaaaaaah. After I started selling squares I constantly got the beep-beep-beep.

I became a known drug dealer, despite the fact that I had absolutely no drugs to sell. (I'd never even smoked the stuff.) I was the Mexican dude who sold pot. People I didn't know were calling me and asking me to meet them places with my invisible marijuana.

I remember being terrified that the police were going to come to my room and arrest me and put me in prison, despite the fact that the most offensive thing I had at the time was 311's Soundsystem album.

If all of this accidentally happened now, I'd change my ringtone to UGK's "Pocket Full of Stones" and change my Twitter handle to @IceCreamMan and have a good laugh. But I was humorless at the time, and this whole thing became a nightmare for me.

You know what doesn't work? Telling people you're not a drug dealer. People don't believe you -- they think you're holding out on them. And so I existed in a perpetual state of nervousness. Not quite Al Pacino at the end of Scarface, but not far off.

I Support
  • Local
  • Community
  • Journalism
  • logo

Support the independent voice of South Florida and help keep the future of New Times free.

Eventually, I just started telling my people that my connect had dried up, that the person I was buying my hundreds of pounds of weed from monthly had gone rogue. People understood that. People believed that. Some even sympathized with it, which was truly remarkable/stupid.

The whole series of events lasted something like two weeks.

You can still feel free to call me the Ice Cream Man, however.

Keep New Times Broward-Palm Beach Free... Since we started New Times Broward-Palm Beach, it has been defined as the free, independent voice of South Florida, and we would like to keep it that way. Offering our readers free access to incisive coverage of local news, food and culture. Producing stories on everything from political scandals to the hottest new bands, with gutsy reporting, stylish writing, and staffers who've won everything from the Society of Professional Journalists' Sigma Delta Chi feature-writing award to the Casey Medal for Meritorious Journalism. But with local journalism's existence under siege and advertising revenue setbacks having a larger impact, it is important now more than ever for us to rally support behind funding our local journalism. You can help by participating in our "I Support" membership program, allowing us to keep covering South Florida with no paywalls.

We use cookies to collect and analyze information on site performance and usage, and to enhance and customize content and advertisements. By clicking 'X' or continuing to use the site, you agree to allow cookies to be placed. To find out more, visit our cookies policy and our privacy policy.

 

Join the New Times community and help support independent local journalism in South Florida.

 

Join the New Times community and help support independent local journalism in South Florida.