Where da Weed At?

So, I had a pretty fun night. Went to the Comedy Zone with Sarah, then to the Ale House for a Zinger Melt and a Captain Jack's Buried Treasure. Went to drop her off and she invited me to come listen to some music if there was an available visitor parking spot. There was. As we're walking to her building, some dude in an SUV hollers out the window at us, asking if we know where he can get some weed. I respond in the negative. He asks again and I keep walking. He opens his car door and asks more persuasively. Hints at having a firearm. I honestly don't know where to get any weed. He starts walking toward me. I went to put my left hand in my back pocket because it was cold and he made a jerking motion and asked what I was "reaching for" at which time I showed him my palms and put my hands over my head. It was kind of scary. I'm never in condition to fight someone with a gun, and with the brace on my hand, I didn't have quick access to my pocket knife, so I started jabbering something about weed on Mission Road. He walked to his car and said something about coming back. We walked to Sarah's place and I stayed a little longer inside than I had been planning on. She burned me a few CDs: Brand New -" The Devil and God are Raging Inside Me," a song by DJ Girl Talk that wasn't on the CD I got earlier this week, and some Copeland and Thrice that I didn't have.

I'm kind of surprised that something sketchy like this hasn't happened to me sooner.