A Bite of the Big Apple

So there I was, off to New York to settle this ridiculous hemp charge. Headed right for Fifth Avenue and 59th, and my suite at the Plaza. I had earlier called Sebastian, and told him on no account was he to discuss the marijuana charge with the press. At least not yet -- this was fruit that had yet to be picked.

My next move was to get in touch with the Mayor, Michael Bloomberg. Michael had been an earlier investor in my sugar beet enterprise, and his firm had done well. It was, therefore, not that difficult to get through the various officials, terribly afflicted with office, by simply stating, "Just tell him, 'sugar beets'".

I outlined what had occurred, the confusion between clothing made from hemp, and its relationship to marijuana (non-existent to all intents and purposes). I could literally hear him blanch, for he immediately saw the problem: the media would have a field day with the story, with New York becoming a global laughing stock.

"Now not to worry, Michael," I said. "I will make it all go away. But I do need to know the name of the Assistant District Attorney who would be prosecuting the case, and your assistance in arranging a meeting as soon as possible. And forget notifying the District Attorney, whoever that might be. He or she wouldn't know a damn thing about the matter, and would get all hot and bothered trying to figure out how this would play in terms of electoral prospects."

Michael agreed wholeheartedly, and an hour later I had a name and an appointment for 10:00 am the next day. I then caught a cab and spent some time at Sebastian's store, where I made a few purchases; he really does have a sense of style. After that, a fine dinner at the Plaza Room, and then, as old Sam Pepys liked to write, "and so to bed."

Next morning Sebastian and I were ushered in to the office of one Hedy Catskill, the A.D.A. in charge of the case. Pleasant looking face, but the glasses didn't help, nor did her hair, tightly back in a bun. Her pant suit was all wrong -- she didn't have the height -- and she really should stay away from that outfit. Probably an undue influence from Hillary. The woman looked harassed, and had to fumble through a series of files before retrieving the hemp issue.

"Yes," she began. "A serious charge. Trafficking. Serious that."

"Trafficking what?" I asked.

"A restricted drug. Marijuana, to be exact."

"Rubbish." I stood up, approached her desk. I was wearing a black pencil skirt and magenta blouse. "Here, Hedy," I said, holding the hem of the skirt. "Feel."

For a moment I thought the woman, wide-eyed, was going to flee, but a tentative hand stretched out.

"That's hemp," I said. "My blouse is made of the same material. That's what is being sold. Clothing, not a narcotic. Now can you imagine what the media might do with this story? Just visualize the headline -- A.D.A. HOT FOR HEMP! Or how about this -- NUMB SKULL NARCS! Or --"

"All right! All right! Just give me a minute to find out how this whole thing started."

Hedy flipped through the file, and then looked up, a peculiar expression on her face. "Well, the N.Y.P.D. were following up on a complaint. It seems that a group had a strong disliking for drugs being used as clothing."

Sebastian spoke up at this point. "What group could possibly object? I mean really, my dear."

Hedy replied, "Er...it says here, 'Clothing For Christ.'

A short silence ensued after this, the usual reaction when the bizarre occurs.

"So perhaps," I suggested, "this whole thing could be dismissed. You might consider writing to this group explaining the difference between a drug and a dress. Sebastian and I of course will say nothing. Particularly to the media. No point in embarrassing you, or the D.A. Or, for that matter, Mayor Bloomberg. You agree?"

She nodded silently. Then she looked up and said, "What you're wearing. Must have cost a fortune."

Sebastian said, "Skirt, $45.00. Blouse, $33.00." He looked at her closely. "You know, we have some really cool A-lines and jumpers in now. Would suit you perfectly. $40.00, two for $60.00. Here's my card. You're welcome anytime."

"I...I might just take you up on that. And yes, this will be dismissed. Nonsense, all of it."

"Hedy," I said, you will go far."

So that was that. Occasionally, government gets it right, and gives the lie to that frightening saying, "Hi. I'm from the government, and I'm here to help you." But as my good friend Bill Maher once stated, that frightening saying has now been replaced with a far more fearsome one: "Hi. I'm Sarah Palin, and by golly, I have access to the launch codes."

See you soon.