E.Evans journal #1


The reasons why I don’t use cocaine … anymore.

1) It’s additive and expensive.
2) Every time one purchases cocaine, he or she is contributing to the
horrible state that Colombia is in. i.e. Honest, ethical judges etc. will get
murdered by powerful drug lords.
3) One finds him or herself cavorting with horrible people.
4) It REALLY REALLY scares me how much I like the stuff.

Once, a year or so ago, I was hanging out in a bar in south Baltimore with friends. Now this particular bar had two sets of bathrooms. One on the main floor, and another less known bathroom upstairs. I usually use the one upstairs to avoid standing in line.

On this particular occasion, I went upstairs to use the bathroom and unintentionally walked in on two guys who were partaking in a little snort fest by the sink. They were surprised and nervous when I walked in so I assured them that it was none of my business and that I did not care and then went to the urinal.

While using the urinal, one of the gentlemen asked if I wanted a line. Not being accustomed to carry on conversations with drugged up strangers while using a urinal, I looked over my shoulder and nervously told them no thank you. I had already come to the conclusion some time before that that stuff was no good for me and had chosen to give it up.

I finished what I was doing, zipped up, walked over to the sink (carefully avoiding the pile of coke one the counter) and began to wash my hands. Again, the same gentleman as before asked me if I wanted a line. I graciously declined and reached for a paper towel.

As I was drying my hands off, the same said gentleman rather forcefully held my upper arm, looked directly into my eyes and said in a very serious tone, “Are you sure you don’t want a line.” Not being an idiot, I knew that I had no choice in this matter and had to accept. Being the eternal pragmatist, I cut myself a very humble line and snorted it gallantly. There was no way out of the situation, so I chose to enjoy it.

Once I was finished, the two men immediately became less nervous and comfortable. The more talkative of the two apologized for his earlier forceful behavior and said to me, “Sorry about that, we were scared you may be a cop. We’re both cops, and if you were too, we’d be really screwed.”

“Oh” I said, “Um, okay …. Thanks. Later guys”

I left the bathroom, walked downstairs, and returned to my group of friends at the bar … completely charged up from what turned out to be very high quality coke. I stayed for another beer or two. I had to say to myself, over and over again like a mantra, “Do not ask policemen for more cocaine. Do not ask the policemen for more cocaine.”

The next day, I went into work and told a coworker (who used to have had quite a problem with the stuff, but is now clean) what had happened. He chucked, rolled his eyes, and knowingly stated, “Man, cops ALWAYS have the best blow.”

Who knew?

[link to a baltimore treatment program.]