Finding diabetic supplies really shouldn’t be that exciting, but, for whatever reason, it was.  There’s a couple of railway lines that run near my house and there’s always teenagers or somebody else hanging around up near them, drinking and smoking.  My friend Tim swore that we’d find dirty magazines lying down around there so we looked and we looked every week, but found nothing.  A couple of times, we found some cigarette boxes with a few cigarettes still inside.  Neither of us smoked, but we found them and tried anyway after borrowing one of our friends’ lighter.  We both choked and coughed and spat the cigarettes out, as you probably imagined.  But we kept looking over those railway lines and a couple of times a cop showed up and asked what we were doing.  We shrugged and said we were wandering around, seeing if anyone had left dirty magazines lying on the tracks.  He laughed and told us to stay out of trouble, and then strode off.  We never did find any magazines.  Instead, we found more cigarettes, empty graffiti cans, knives, chains, and even Ronald Regan masks.  When we found diabetic supplies one day, we were so happy.  It was something different.