Yesterday was a April 20th. Apparently it’s a holiday of some sort. Years ago I used to travel down to Kentucky with a guy I used to know, and while at the local Big Box buying fishing licenses, the clerk, a dude that looked like he slept under bridges and washed up once a month or so, wished us a happy “420”.
I had no idea what that meant.
Still not exactly clear except it has something to do with rope or handcream or something damned thing, a celebration of hemp? Apparently there’s more to it than that. My son and my wife are in on this thing which I’m starting to think is some sort of holiday by invitation only. I know a lotta’ secrets, don’t know about this one.
Saturday morning I’ve been instructed to go to Uptown MPLS and run an errand at the RhymeSayers store. I’ve been there before, if you care to read about that last time I was there and asked to leave for being to old and too uncool.
I honestly don’t care to go back. But this is one of those weekend where I have nothing on the agenda and everyone seems to know it, so my protests were met with “what else do you have to do today?”
Touché.
My son offered some advice however. “You should go early, no one will be there.” I had to ask, “why is that?” “It was fourtwenty on Friday, the folks up there aren’t going to get in early after fourtwenty Dad” and he, and his ma, looked at me in a way that implied that I should know this.
Didn’t occur to me. I’ll let you know how it goes.
My only associations with 20 April are Hitler’s birthday and the Coumbine High School massacre