Early March 1980, 1 am, Seattle airport parking garage, roof.

It was cold, snow everywhere.

I stood there in the quiet, smoking my last bowl of sinsemilla and watched the winter lights in the sky, the aurora borealis, so close I could almost reach out and touch them, feel them.

It was amazing, “The Colors!”.

I tapped the ashes out, dropped the bowl over the side and heard it hit the concrete below.

I trudged back into the airport and waited for the Western Airline jet that would take me to Anchorage….