… previously was Part One
The bus doors opened outward and out stepped Mr. Dealer Man. He saw me immediately because I had begun moving toward him, quickly and aggressively, the second I saw him leave the bus. I could see a perplexed fearful look come to his face, not surprising since my body language clearly announced “Danger!” and my eyes surely were firing with a violent intensity. Baring down upon him I was as focused (and fucked up) as a desperate coke fiend trying to do their fifteenth fix of the evening. Before he’d taken a dozen steps I was upon him.
“What’s going on?” he asked, cautiously, obviously recognizing I wasn’t my normal mellow, even docile, junkie shows dealer deference, self.
“What’s going on is you’re going to front me a couple of pills and you’re going to give them to me right now!”
“What? Why? Just a sec..”
“No just a sec! I want those friggin’ pills and I want them right now. You know we get our money tonight [everyone knows when welfare day is] and you know I’ll be by tonight to pay you. So just give me the two pills now! You know its my sweetie’s birthday and we just want to chill at home. We’ve bought tens of thousands of dollars of dope from you. You know I’ll pay you tonight. So I want a two pills front. Give me the pills now and lets be done with it. I’m not fuckin’ kidding!”
As this conversation unfolded we were still standing near the bus stop, directly in front of his apartment building. He was beginning to regain his bearings, no longer looking so nervous, and I knew from experience with him that he was starting to try to figure out some way to weasel his way out of upping me those pills. I was having none of that crap.
“What the fuck man! I said I want a two pill front, just two god damn pills. I’ve told ya I’ll be back later with the money. You know me man! We always pay on time, and we’ve never ripped you off. Never! So quit stalling and give me the pills! I’m serious man! I want those pills, fucking NOW! I’m not asking anymore man, I want those pills.”
I really didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t care that we were standing on a fairly busy street, in front of an apartment with balconies with people on them, or with open sliding glass windows, standing and yelling where any number of people nearby could hear us. I was at the point where I didn’t care about anything about being cool or keeping a low profile. I didn’t care about nothing but getting those couple pills so my sweetie didn’t have to run the streets, scrounging for scratch, on her birthday. In fact, as crazy as it is, I was quite prepared to kill him, right then and there, if that’s what it took to make sure I got those pills. Stab him multiple times, and rob him right there in broad daylight, if he didn’t cough up the pills.
“Fucking now man!” I literally screamed.
Finally the arrogant prick perceived that I was about to do violence. Finally he realized that he was going to be hurt if he stalled any longer. He was scared. Finally he submitted.
“Okay, okay, okay. Not here.” he said and started moving toward his building’s front door.
In my mind I figured he might actually be thinking of unlocking the apartment’s front door, slipping in, and pulling the door shut, trying to lose me. He probably wasn’t, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
“I said NOW man, I said fucking NOW” I yelled, and grabbed his shoulder, and spun him backwards.
We were now standing at the apartment’s front vestibule, where the apartment residents are listed on the wall, beside the two way speaker system you use to get buzzed in. Up in a corner was a security camera pointed at whomever is standing at the front door. Lots of the building’s residents defaulted their tv’s to the channel that security camera appeared on whenever they weren’t watching any particular show – particularly the druggies so they could see cops at the apartment door or get a clear visual of who might be buzzing their apartment. So this altercation was on candid camera and we definitely had an audience.
“One last time man”, I said with clear menace, “I am not fucking kidding. Give them to me now or I’m fucking taking them from ya!”.
The all-purpose multi-tool knife, all-purpose except unintended for the lethal purpose I was sickenly close to using it for, was still clenched in my fist. I had not forgotten about it in the least. I had clearly run over in my mind, many times, how I would hold the tool, and stab with the solid pliers end because it would do the most damage.
Finally he exhaled and shook his head in resignation, “Ah fuck” he sighed, and began undoing his belt. I knew then I was getting the pills. This dealer always kept his stash in a bag, tucked down beneath his bag. So there he stood, at the front door to his apartment building, in direct view of the security camera and all who might be watching, pulling his pants down to his knees, and withdrawing his stash bag from within his briefs. You know I’ve had a good laugh about this many times since.
Out came the plastic bag from within the stash bag. It contained literally hundreds of pills of dozen different shapes and colours, several half-point flaps of junk, plus a couple baggies of coke powder. He was the kind of small time dealer who spent most of his earnings on dope and often dropped by his coke dealer after his selling downtown was done to get an eight ball for the evening. Altogether it was a pretty considerable stash that he’d exposed, along with his bare butt and nuts. Looking truly pathetic, he held forth the baggie and pleaded, “please don’t take it all”.
“Please don’t take it all. What the fuck man. I told you I just want a couple pills. A couple pills and I’ll pay you for them tonight. Fuck man, you know me. I’m not going to take your fucking dope. I don’t do shit like that. I just want a couple pills”.
He picked out two greys and handed them to me. Then he looked at me, like some kid who standing before a teacher at detention. He wasn’t going to do anything, he just stood there, pants around his knees, he wasn’t going to move until he was certain I was satisfied.
“Okay” I said, and turned to leave. After a few strides, I stopped and looked back. “I will be by just a bit after midnight to pay for these”.
He was bent over, wiggling his pants back up to his waist, and I don’t think he even heard me.
“Fucking asshole” I muttered to myself, and started hightailing it outta there. Mission accomplished. My sweetie wouldn’t have to hit the streets on her birthday.
Later, after midnight, i phoned him to say I had the money and would be by in a couple minutes to pay him. Not too surprisingly, he said I shouldn’t bother coming by because his old lady was pissed at me for yelling at her over the intercom when she’d turned me down for a front earlier in the day. It was that b.s. which drove me to start stalking the front of his apartment waiting to confront him when he got home.
“Sure thing man” I replied, “Just don’t forget I was willing to pay you tonight. You don’t want my money now, okay, but know I would have come and paid you for those two pills just like I said I would” and I hung up.
What a day! That bastard had come so close to dying. And I was insanely close to spending the rest of my life in prison because I had reached the snapping point with dealer power tripping. And the day wasn’t over yet. I had intended to buy several more pills when I saw him that evening. Now that he wasn’t letting me come to his place I had to hunt down someone else to score from. Fucking hell! Does the shit ever end?
Filed under: Good Stuff, harm reduction | Tags: filtering drugs, mophine
The Network Against Prohibition, an Australian user group, has an excellent page at their website about how to safely prepare morphine pills (MS Contin) for injection.
Unfortunately it is rare to find a needle exchange in Canada or the US which provide syringe filters such as the Sterifilt or even better, wheel filters, for harm reduction provision to injectors.
Great blog that focuses on “dope bags, drug branding, brooklyn”.
I cannot legally visit the great satan due to the fact I’ve had many extended shithole visits up in the great white north courtesy of little satan’s keepers. Fuck’em if they can’t take a poke! Eh? Right?
Anyhow, I have always wanted to visit the denizens of the NYC area, seek out the local haunts, and partake of the little (well likely a lot) of the local “culture”. And now that I’m grown up, I’d still like to partake. But now I’d like to partake in this sort of culture:
Don’t see bags like those in Canada… unfortunately. Instead of culturally cool touches like branded bags, we just have boring flaps made from magazine cuttings, or more commonly, a square cut from a Pro-Line sports betting or Lotto parlay card which can be grabbed by the handful from any corner grocery store up here. They are made of good solid heavy bond paper, so they don’t break down easily. Nothing worse than the heat or sweat in your pants pocket getting to a couple flaps made of cheap magazine paper and messing shit up. Regardless of the quality of the powder inside, the fact remains that the packaging up here is just plain boring.
Usually I’m getting more than street corner quantity so what I get doesn’t come in paper flaps (or glassine baggies). However the last time I did get me some flaps, I got a ten pack bundle of half-point (that’s the norm) flaps for $80 in Vancouver. Individual’s go for $10. I hear the quality varies greatly. What I got had little initial buzz, and a long lazy last.
Filed under: Drug Politics
The war on drugs has failed. Now we need a more humane strategy is a strong advocacy article by Fernando Henrique Cardoso, former president of Brazil, wherein he argues the case for a new global drug policy towards decriminalisation and promoting harm reduction.
The Guardian is one of England’s most well-respected newspapers. It is similar in status to the New York Times in the United States. Over the past several decades The Guardian has run numerous features questioning the “war on drugs”. The paper continued its call for a change in drug policy in its editorial of September 6, 2009 entitled Prohibition’s failed. Time for a new drugs policy
Also in the same edition of The Guardian are a two more articles that provide further evidence and clear rationale that the time for change is long due and that change is happening now in several countries, particularly in Latin America.
WE WIN this war ONE COUNTRY AT A TIME