I was walking along Market Street in the Castro on Saturday night and saw a middle-aged man holding an unwrapped joint—a fat amount of marijuana neatly laid across a cigarette wrapper. He was about to hand it to a woman when a police car's spotlight suddenly shined on his hand and a voice boomed, "WHAT'S THAT IN YOUR HAND?"
The man's deer-in-headlights look was the most intense I had ever seen in my life. He carefully thought about his answer for a long moment. Then, in an act of sheer resignation, he declared, "Marijuana!" and threw the joint onto the ground.