You Gonna Put That Up Your Nose?


The sun rise was beautiful upon the horizon.  Birds were chirping as a new day was beginning.  I stumbled out of a shitty apartment with a runny nose, cursing my life.  Hoping I would get home safely and finally get to sleep.  I repeated this routine weekly for the better part of two decades.

There’s not much worse in this world than the long nights, that stretch into the wee hours of the next morning, doing coke with a bunch of other idiots.  Sitting in someones kitchen staring at each other, waiting for someone to cut out the next line.

Over a 17 year period I did enough coke to kill Charlie Sheen.   The thing is, I’m not sure why I used so much for so long.  I hated the drug. I can’t even remember a time that I said, “Wow I’m glad I did coke, it made my night so much better.”

There’s very little worse than doing  coke.  What are the benefits?  My nose ran constantly, it ensured my dick wouldn’t work, I talked too much and I became even more twitchy.  Where do I sign up?

The worst parts of doing coke is the people you end up associating with. Cocaine will cause you to surround yourself with the shittiest degenerates imaginable.   Most of the people I did coke with were by default; they were the only ones around at 4 AM.  The sad truth is, eventually you become one of those shitty people.  I know I certainly became one rather quickly.

Coming in as the second most terrible thing about doing coke, the coked up conversation.  My God they are the worst.  I have had people ramble on for hours to me on topics like golf spikes and banking.  I can’t think of any worse torture than this.  The government should try this on it’s prisoners at GITMO.  I think they would crack after an hour.

Thinking about the asinine discussions and plans we all made together is utterly embarrassing.  Everyone has their “im going to conquer the world” speech geared up and ready to go about 2-3 lines into the night.  It’s brutal and almost unbearable.  But, at the time you nod and agree with excitement.  You can’t wait to help them out and let them know about your vision.

The coked up conversation hit it’s peak around 3:30 AM.  The bars are closed and people have convened back at someone’s house with their little baggies, ready to keep the party going.  As you look around the room everyone has chainsaw jaw.   Their teeth viciously grinding back and forth as their creepy gaze looks right through you.

Occasionally I would do far too much coke and start to panic.  My heart would race, my chest would tighten and I would become introverted.  I would put my fingers on my neck to check my pulse and take slow, deep breathes trying to calm down.  If it was too severe I’d pop a Xanax to calm down.  Mixing uppers and downers isn’t the best idea.

I thought I was having a heart attack for the first time in 2005.  I did an eight ball on a Tuesday night.  It seemed like an appropriate occasion I suppose.  I took several Tylenol PM’s and was laying in my bed watching The Butterfly Effect with Ashton Kutcher when It happened.  The right side of my chest tightened like a vice grip.  I could barely breath and my skin turned blue.

I slowly paced around my house trying to catch my breath.  I remember praying to God and telling him if he only let me make it through this one time I would change.  I lied.  I even went as far as to dump the rest of my coke down the toilet as a sign of good faith.

Eventually I lay down on the couch and accepted my fate.  My fate turned out to be me developing massive anxiety for the next several years.  I continually worried if my heart would give out, to the point I had to be medicated.  I didn’t let that slow down my coke use though.  No, that was a only a slight obstacle I learned to work around.

Watching people do coke now is just depressing.  Everyone has their own twist and I try not to judge, but I judge.  Seeing girls coming out of a bathroom sniffling and rubbing their nose is the biggest boner killer possible.  Nothing says trashy like a coked up stare and a little white powder crusted around the ring of your nose.

At one point I had a runny nose and a cough for 10 years straight.  I couldn’t seem to kick it.  I felt like this was normal and no one could tell.  Every one could tell, I fooled no one.  I was a mess.  On the bright side I can still brag and say I’ve never smoked crack.

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