One day I passed by a restaurant’s backdoor. It smelled like a wild mix of food and weed. A cook sat on a crate of beer in his white and tiny checkered uniform, smoking a joint. He obviously enjoyed it.
“Hi” he said smoking.
“Hi” I said, passing by.
I didn’t say more than that. In Holland it is legal and why bother. But I remembered what a friend once said to me “Cooks always take drugs.”
Well, you can erase the always, because always is never.