This was not the first day that Dave had felt joy in his life. He used to have it on a much more regular constant basis. A wife that loved him, children that adored him, a mistress to please him and even a mother in law that tolerated him. He had it all. Then one day it all came unraveling apart.
The year was 2002. Dave was four years removed from getting his MBA at San Diego State University where he was a solid C student. Although he did receive a few grants to go to college, most of his tuition was derived from loans. This forced Dave to find some odd jobs. Mainly dealing drugs to preppy white collar, or should I say up collared individuals (you know ones so high and mighty that they can get away with not rolling down their collar). It came about not because he was particularly adapt in acquiring said illegal goods, just that he always looked like the type of guy that would have drugs on him. Deep black bags under his eyes due to sleep apnea, shaggy hair that he never kept trim, allergies to so many items that when he took the allergy test he thought he might have contracted measles at some point and a constant half smile just at his enthusiasm to life lead others to believe he had partaken in something to make him that way.
Traveling around one day at campus, a dockers and polo shirt combo wearing trying to impress a preacher’s daughter (always the preacher’s daughter isn’t it?) asked him for some yay. Dave, not aware of the euphanism for cocaine, just looked at the man perplexed, took his hand out of his pocket and gave him a high five. Not sure why, it just seemed to always work to diffuse any situation.
Having just bought a new pair of pants that day, his hand grabbed the little packet to make cloth last longer and momentarily hit the man’s hand with the packet.
“Wow, what do you I owe you man?” dockers said.
“Nothing, just pass along the highs man.”