Hi. I'm 31 years old. I have a steady job and own my apartment. Oh, and by the way, Labor Day was huge for me this year - I finally got to see cocaine! Sure, that's two weeks ago now, but it's taken me awhile to internalize the experience.
I was in NYC to watch the US Open and, it turns out, the friends I was staying with are major fans of the stuff. It must have been 4 o'clock or so when we returned to the apartment after a night of, let's face it, binge drinking, when my buddy "Brett" pulls out this tiny baggie full of you know what. I was not nearly as wasted as everyone else, so I'm trying to play it cool, not exactly looking away from the Evil but not transfixed either. Anyway, I pretended to watch TV as Brett carefully made some lines with his subway fare card; I remember thinking what a shame it was that pretty soon he'd be snorting the stuff, and after all that hard work too.
Anyway, a couple people go up to the kitchen counter and take a big whiff, then retire to their seats. I figure they're gearing up for yet another round of heavy drinking, and perhaps will be hitting the streets again very soon. Cocaine!!! I tiptoed up to the counter, hoping to avoid notice and an invitation to snort (I'm incredibly weak under peer pressure, as my poor record of refusing pot attests), and prepared for the awesome sight of long, thick lines of coke. Well, let me just tell you, those lines were the puniest little things I've ever seen. I can not be redundant enough in describing how miniscule they were. I seriously doubt a rodent would get high off lines that size. Anyway, the best part was, everyone went straight to sleep immediately afterwards. Isn't cocaine supposed to pick you up for further misadventures? I totally didn't get it, but at least I refused the coke when I was asked to try...
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