I had a great deal of freedom, and access to enterprises that were both idealistic and highly lucrative, when I was young. We really believed it, and we were proud of it, when we were trafficking LSD and mushrooms and stuff. It was practically sanctimonious.
One time, again mid-20s, my girlfriend's dad went out of town. And we ordered two big boxes of mushrooms from California there. At the time I was being served by a girl who made big boxes consisting of smaller boxes wrapped to look like wedding presents, and it was mushrooms for $400 a pound.
So we're waiting for fifteen pounds of mushrooms supposedly to arrive on Saturday - we paid extra for Saturday delivery. And they didn't show up on Saturday.
Sunday morning we get a call, the caller ID says "US GOVERNMENT" so we don't pick it up. The answering machine comes on and they say in a kindly tone... "Oh we have your delivery from California, can you come pick it up, etc. "
On Sunday. We look at each other and I say, "Well if we're busted we're busted, we gotta go." So we called them back and they gave us directions to a post office in the weirdest neighborhood, we had to drive though weird neighborhoods we've never seen. So we pull up and she goes in. (As a brave warrior I put the thing in her dad's name) And I'm sitting in the car waiting for the SWAT team to swoop in.
And she walks out with a huge box in her hands, and a post office employee walking behind her with a similar-sized box. And they load them into the car and we drove away.
That was another time events conspired to connect me with my gut.