Something else about this weekend’s Willie Nelson concert that I forgot to include earlier, but bears mentioning: Following the show, before we left the arena, I had to use the restroom. So there I was, standing at the urinal doing my business, when I noticed a bizarre odor (or at least more bizarre than usual for that situation).
I glanced down, and sitting there atop the urinal was the remains of a joint. And not just the dregs, either, but (and this is based purely on observation and not experience) what appeared to be a good quarter of it. I have to wonder who, lighting up in the mens room at the civic auditorium in Hot Springs, AR, suddenly got so paranoid that he abandoned his stash on top of the urinal.
I did not smoke it. I feel good about that decision.