Drug Dealer on Broad Street

People who know me, know I'm rarely early to anything. Punctual, yes. Late, sometimes. Early, nope.

But WDKX's Liz Medhin and I finished up shooting a promo for Brizard: Square One in record time yesterday (despite a few extra takes - all my fault) and I hit all the green lights going over to the Democrat & Chronicle offices for a meeting. The parking gods were on my side, guiding me to an open spot not too far from the front door. Heck, I had 15 minutes to kill.

I decided to stay in the car for a few of them. I didn't expect it to be a particularly insightful experience; I just didn't feel like feeding the meter any more nickels than I had to.

But then I saw him. The drug dealer on Broad Street.

He wasn't wearing a sign. It was the guy-in-parka-handing-baggie-to-guy-with-wad-of-cash that tipped me off. The guy in the parka quickly disappeared in the opposite direction. But the now-without-cash man, dressed in business casual, strolled on the sidewalk ahead of me as I got out of the car. I followed him to the corner, wondering if I should be calling 9-1-1 or hailing down a passing police car (there were two.) Then I turned right and he turned left, presumably going back to the office.

I didn't do anything.

Which is why I can't really fault Eliot Spitzer for trying to do something. He is proposing a tax on illegal drugs. Drug dealers and users would have to pay a gram-based tax, either on their own accord or after getting caught. It's estimated the state could make 17-million dollars a year.

Of course, Spitzer isn't doing this to take a tougher stance against smoking crack. He's doing it because he has money troubles. Come to think of it, encouraging the illegal drug trade could help New York pay its bills without upsetting too many lobbyists. Not that any politicians would ever think of that.