Aiports and Using Your Ass to Take Drugs
Things were starting to get quite retarded. My friends were getting pissed off with me constantly going to score. When I drank I had what I called ‘the 2 pint limit’. People would invite me out for a couple of drinks and I would think,
‘yeh, a quiet night, a few laughs and the last tube home sounds like a good plan’.
This thinking ignored the fact that there was, at the best of times, a very thin line between me behaving normally and me behaving like a mental drug addict. 2 pints was all it took for me to snort that line and wake up 2 days later wondering why I was in broke in Maida Vale surrounded by hookers and thieves. At this point I had started ‘shelving’. This meant using your ass to take drugs. The whole crack thing was wearing a bit thin. Crack has this annoying habit of stripping you of all humanity and leaving you a shaking paranoid mess. But I still needed a method of ingestion for when my nose was either too blocked or painful to go on snorting. My ass filled that hole. The only other time I had experimented with putting things up my ass was when I tested the theory that putting Tabasco sauce in your anus gave you an immediate boner (it doesn’t). I spent the following painful hour trying to find a beeday to irrigate my suffering passage. Anyway, I didn’t fancy trying to get the powder up there so I dissolved the coke in water sucked it up into a pipette, inserted it and squirted. The effect was most pleasurable as the cell membrane in your ass is 20x thinner than it is in your nose. However, the sheer annoyance of trying to squirt something upwards into one’s ass while extremely fucked was a notable downside. The next day, my landlord asked me why there was olive oil bottle in the toilet (lubrication purposes) I can’t remember what I told him, later he was asking me why there were burnt spoons left in the bathroom as our relationship deteriorated.
Not best known for his tact, Steven dropped the ‘I think you should move out because you’re a scary drug addict’ bomb while giving me a lift home from the dentist. I was in a very fragile place as I was flying to china in 24 hours and had been suffering with a hideous pain in my wisdom teeth. Had I not spent the last week completely smacked up I would have felt the pain and done something about it. But things being what they were, I found myself desperately calling dentists saying
‘I’ll pay any amount of money, just make the pain stop’
I was shocked and disturbed by Steven’s news,
‘But mate I’m not doing anything wrong!’
Then he informed me 2 of my oldest friends who I was living with were moving out because of the drug problem,
‘They told me it was because of the rent’ I protested
‘No, they’re scared of you people are coming and going at all hours of the night, there are spoons and shit everywhere and you look terrible’
My brain raced as panic set in. Far from guilt or shame at this turn of events my only concern was self preservation. I never felt ashamed of anything I did not matter how destructive.
‘Look, I’ll stop I promise I’ll stop, no more drugs in the house, you can’t chuck me out I’m your mate’
Steven tensed up a bit. He never really showed much emotion but I could tell what I had said had registered
‘I’ll need to think about it’
I sighed loudly and stared out the window nursing my wounded pride.
‘How dare they question my behavior? It’s not even that bad, I’m not hurting anyone’
And so on and so on. Things got pretty low when I started begging not to be chucked out the house I shared with some of my oldest friends. It was snowing, I had a plane to catch and my wisdom teeth were killing me. I had just shelled out 6 bags worth of money to fix my teeth and I was on some kind of self-pitying righteous anger thing. Then I missed my flight.
I checked in at Heathrow, put my bags through and retired to the toilets to smoke the rest of my smack. I planned to spend the 14 hour flight in a blissful semi-coma. I had been tapering my use over the previous 2 weeks so I would not withdraw whilst I was in China and I wasn’t taking anything with me, I’d seen ‘Banged Up Abroad’ and I didn’t want to end up like those poor bastards. The dentist had prescribed me some Codeine for my wisdom teeth and that would help me with any withdrawals. I stumbled out of the toilets looking like a bedraggled half-human and went to the gate
‘Boarding for flight BA245 is now closed’
Normally this kind of disastrous news would have registered somewhere. But the world was barely real to me at this point. I squinted at the board with my contracted pupil’s, turned and walked nonchalantly to the large queue of stranded passengers – it was a week before Christmas. Nothing really affected me at this point. My only reality was measured in bags and chunks of 15 quid. I joined the 4 hour queue to try and get seen and see what could be done about the situation. In the queue I met a like-minded individual. An American with a large Burt-Reynolds moustache, he was about 28. He had just been chucked off his flight for being too intoxicated on Alcohol and Oxicotin. I can’t really remember what we talked about apart from he was a roady doing the Backstreet Boys’ tour of Europe. He was clearly very agitated by the situation. Sometimes I wonder what happened to him. Being a lucky sod I was given a seat on a flight leaving the next day. Now, most normal people in this situation would think
‘I nearly fucked up my holiday and lost thousands of pounds worth of airline seat by being too high to deal with the airport. Let’s leave the drugs at least until I get back’
I went and scored as soon as I left the airport. Then I scored the next morning. I was never one for self-control but Smack really excacerbated this side of my personality. The next day, I made it onto the plane and freaked out a girl I tried to chat up in the departure lounge. Gazing my bloodshoot, contracted pupil-eyes at her. Things got a bit weird on the plan as it seemed way too nice. ‘These long-distance BA flights really push the boat out’ I thought. It took me a bit of time to realize my replacement ticket was in First Class. With full beds and everything. I sipped Champagne and zoned in and out of reality while the smart gay attendant served me luxury food.