Drugging the night away.... #The Cross#

There were two people he would not spend the night with on any given day and these are the ladies on the pill box and the talkers. He almost collapsed when he went home with one after a private party. Apparently, the frenzied girl had injected ecstasy and was ready to go all night long. He was left alone after he briefly passed out. It was not a smart choice but that was what he referred to as paying the dues.

Life in the city was tricky but it was even dangerous at night.  It required high IQ, very reliable instincts and much intuition since no one was ready to tell you what you needed to know, let alone show you around.  There were all kinds of phony people out there and you could be preyed upon. People seeing signals when none is given, impersonation, thievery and killing is going on, corporate frauds happening every minute and it was just increasingly scary listening to the news. He turned it off anyway.

People doing everything to catch up on their dreams. Their nursed goals of becoming strippers, dancers, artistes, promoters and all kinds of anything that will enrich their pockets. People are networking around the clock, creating valuable contacts and friends for those who have no business to offer, others also trying to come up with a few creative stunts, then comes the less imaginative ones who just stand there and stare. Those lots have no clue with regards to happenings around them.

The whole place is like a community of people with completely different ethos and that makes him feel accepted to himself. He was supposed to be different.

The independent and curious girls who feels like dancing all night long and having their way avoids the regular clubs. They don’t want men heckling them on the dance floor and not giving them space to dance, so they hit the gay clubs where men were not interested in them. But it was the only way some guys get laid. They dressed up all gay and sit at the bar waiting to pounce on those unsuspecting ladies who would mistake them for a regular gay. The only time that plan backfires is when you are heckled by another gay in the club. It sometimes can be frustrating.

He knew all about drugs because it was an essential part of the night and his life. However, the buck only stops at the fun drugs and he tried to stay clear from the sketchy drugs. He did not want to be addicted to those, they were deadly. They dominated and messed up your life, change the tone and color of your skin and he was too special to go that way so he resorted to the recreational drugs. The likes of speed, crack, LSD and cocaine were expensive when smoked. It was recreation he wanted anyway so he did weed and Ecstasy because they were basically harmless and only needed some moderation.

All he had to do was to stay out of trouble by not buying it on the street. People sold all mixture of herbs as drug and some of these ones left you with a throbbing headache, severe and lasting damage and staying off the street also was a sure way to avoid the Police. He had his own peddler who supplied him with his doses. He paid a premium for the contract and also pays for the extra services the drug pusher rendered. That meant reliable and mostly, timely supply of his goodies. Drug peddling was big business in the city. It was more than the average observer could fathom and it was a member’s only affair. It is definite that someone has to introduce you. That is what happens in any closed group even if it was a dyad.

You needed some kind of skills and alertness to do drugs on the street which happens to be the safest place by all means necessary. Nobody was allowed to buy and sell drugs in their homes, not even when it was unlawful to possess it. Nobody had the temerity to have the exhibit in their possession for so long, so they exchange hands quickly; one taking the money and the other the dope. This limits the time to examine the authenticity of the drug. He could not forget the day he bought a mixture of foot powder and baking soda to his chagrin.

They were headed for a party, he and a couple friends, so they passed by their usual joint on a not-too-busy backstreet. There were pockets of bars scattered in the road and people went about their lives as if no one existed besides them.  He got down as soon as they got there and crossed over the street to where the pusher sat in the open, where he could get to see informants and his assailants from afar. You were at a disadvantage if you operated from a hide-out. Most patrons do not even like going into obscure places to transact those kinds of deals. The cunningness in them, gives them the impetus to operate in the open and to give on-lookers the impression that everything was okay.

He noticed that the regular lanky guy who sold the drugs was not sitting behind the broken billboard that has been left there for as long as anyone cared to know. From where he sat, it was easier to see people approaching than they seeing him. He loved that position for an office and was rooted to it. He felt let down upon realizing that the guy was not there. He looked around and saw no one, he could not ask of him since it was a risky venture. That was when it dawned on him that he and his friends and the party was not going to come alive because the powerhouse cannot respond well.

How else could they dance and play the charade all night long, not to talk about all those sex games like spin-the-bottle and truth and dare coming up.  That was when he was approached by one guy who looked like he’s been in the trade as long as you care to know. They have a funny way of making themselves out and it’s amazing to the lay man. Identifying a total stranger among a group of people and narrowing your search to him because of his lifestyle was a craft you acquired after sometime on the street.

The guy introduced himself as the one sitting in for his customer and that it was safe to buy from him since the Pusher himself had woken up to mind a few businesses in the other side of the city. He was suddenly elated that after all the party was coming alive against all odds. He bought a large quantity of cocaine and weed. He quickly runs to the car after crossing over the street to where it was parked. He quickly made himself comfortable in his latest toy, the 2011 model of the Porsche Cayenne and drove off with his friends.

They had gotten to the party, made themselves comfortable in the room where the sniffing was supposed to take place before they realized that what they had in their possession was a mixture of powder. Apart from the money that was gone down the drain, their night was going down inactively and less eventful. They cannot live to their fullest and they knew right there that their night was ruined, not to talk about the party at all.

Since that fateful night, he resolved to look for his own supplier and that is who he’s been working with ever since. They were not regular dealers; they come to your home with what they claim was one of the best drugs. How they come up with such potent stuffs still remains their trade secrets. They touted the potency of their supply which makes you bless the day you signed the pact with them. You always ended up smiling to yourself for trusting your instinct and for making such a choice.

He has learnt not to ask the quality of the merchandise because the last time he did, he received a whole lecture on the origin of the drug, the first family that cultivated it and how they got it smuggled into the Country. He doesn’t even like the way they talk. They all talk the same way; cold and appear to have the last words, they also like their words taken serious. He did not also like their concept of time. It doesn’t sit well with him but if that is how his supply could get to him, then that will be it; half an hour meant an hour and a half but that was how far his relationship with Ras Bongo, his supplier went.

Even though he did not have many friends, the less he had, he was afraid of practically living his life with them. He could not introduce his friends to his supplier otherwise it was just a matter of time and they would turn him into a mini drug dealer and that meant carrying some about and getting into trouble with the Police. He could not afford to add that up to what he was already doing. He did not want to generate revenue that way.

The weed was an essential part of maintaining sanity in the city; it was one of the sure ways of getting down and rising to whatever occasion. It was good, cheap and easy to get unlike the cocaine which was scarce and expensive.  He made sure he always had his supply of the two types.  He smoked the skunk all day long if he decides to stay at home. The pungent sticky buds and smell from the skunk alone was glorifying to him since he likes to get high like the clouds. He calls it chronic. He only made use of the dead weed in the mornings when he had a hangover. It was the remedy to tackling hang over. It was the cheaper one that comes with the seeds and twigs and this type can even make an anorexic acquire the taste of a gourmet. Every food simply became delicious and good.