People love using axioms and phrases to appear helpful through the least effort possible. Kinda like someone saying they'll pray for you when you get cancer. But some phrases ring true.
"When in Rome, do as the Romans do"
That's one of them.
Easier said than done. I'd just moved up the West Coast of the United States. The hustle and bustle of Los Angeles was getting to me, and I needed a fresh start, and maybe some fresh air. Everything I owned was in that VW bus, driving along the Pacific Ocean.
The life I left behind was great, don't get me wrong. Movie producer, big house, beautiful gold-digging wife, I had it all. Things fall apart though. While I was left alright financially, divorcing my cheating wife was another thing. That bitch turned my world upside down. It was shortly after this that I left.
And there I was, in Rome, Oregon. "Do as the Romans do," I said to myself. So I stopped in at the first restaurant I saw. I had a great meal. Eggs, bacon, and some sourdough toast. Breakfast is good any time of day. I took my time eating that meal. I savored the food, I had to learn to appreciate everything. The city disenchants you, but here, life is sweet and slow.
Everyone in that little dive was local, born and raised. Simple folks, but you wouldn't be able to tell from the cars parked outside. Brand new Audis, all impeccable, lined the lot. And I drove a junker weedmobile. Who would've thought. I watched them and I listened to them to get my bearings straight in this foreign land.
As it turns out, they didn't do much. One guy owned a farm, and struck it rich when he found oil under the land. After selling the rights to Chevron, he employed the town to grow marijuana in the now needless fields. The money was good, the weed even better.
"Do as the Romans do."
I could get used to that. Hell, I couldn't even remember the last time I smoked a doobie, but how hard could farming some grass be? So I moseyed on over to the old man, the one in charge, at least of those in the restaurant. So I asked him:
"What's a guy gotta do around here to work on the farm?"
I'd interrupted him. He was having a laugh, and I'd interrupted him. I didn't think much of it.
Now here I am, nothing but part of the ether. Or rather, the fertilizer. People in Rome don't like company. There was a reason there were only locals in town.
"When in Rome." Bull-friggin-shit.
