Great job. Delivered food, got baked, listened to good music (real music, not rap or techno or any EDM shit) Place I worked for was the hub of drug transportation in the neighborhood at the time. Cops were always watching us. ALWAYS.
So I take a delivery out to Bell Rd. A bit out in the sticks, but on the edge of our delivery zone. I'm maybe 18, high as shit, and just trying to sling a pie. Bell rd. is lined with pretty nice houses. It's not a shabby neighborhood at all. And remember this was before GPS and shit, I was just a stoned teenager trying to deliver some food. Who doesn't like the pizza guy!?!?! Everyone loves the pizza guy.
Except for this guy. Wearing boxers, a bathrobe, and brandishing a shotgun, and looking like he hadn't slept in a week,
He answers the door, and sticks a shotgun in my face. Like I could have tongued it if I were so inclined.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asks.
"I'm the pizza guy." I answer.
"I didn't order a fucking pizza". Then he kicked the door shut. His neighbor ordered it. And they got it. But a fun memory for sure.
So, the moral of the story is, even if your kids are delivering pizzas in an upper middle class neighborhood, there is always the chance that the person who answers the door, might stick a shotgun in their face. Ideally with GPS, these situations will be minimized, but you can never be too sure.
God I miss those days....
So I take a delivery out to Bell Rd. A bit out in the sticks, but on the edge of our delivery zone. I'm maybe 18, high as shit, and just trying to sling a pie. Bell rd. is lined with pretty nice houses. It's not a shabby neighborhood at all. And remember this was before GPS and shit, I was just a stoned teenager trying to deliver some food. Who doesn't like the pizza guy!?!?! Everyone loves the pizza guy.
Except for this guy. Wearing boxers, a bathrobe, and brandishing a shotgun, and looking like he hadn't slept in a week,
He answers the door, and sticks a shotgun in my face. Like I could have tongued it if I were so inclined.
"Who the fuck are you?" he asks.
"I'm the pizza guy." I answer.
"I didn't order a fucking pizza". Then he kicked the door shut. His neighbor ordered it. And they got it. But a fun memory for sure.
So, the moral of the story is, even if your kids are delivering pizzas in an upper middle class neighborhood, there is always the chance that the person who answers the door, might stick a shotgun in their face. Ideally with GPS, these situations will be minimized, but you can never be too sure.
God I miss those days....
