Sunday, March 19, 2006

Sylvia, Catrina, and Victor: Continued

Everywhere I have ever worked, there’s always that one person who everyone in the company knows can get drugs. Just ask around and you’ll find them. I found Rick Herman. He was a smiling, backslapping kind of guy who knew everyone. He always seemed to be in some kind of trouble at work, but he was so likeable that management kept him around. He was the kind of guy who always seemed to come in on Monday mornings and brag about what a wild weekend he had and the parties he had gone to. It was obvious that many of Rick’s colleagues (myself included) were living vicariously through him, and his storytelling was always welcomed. However, merely coming out and asking a co-worker if they know where to find drugs is imprudent no matter how freewheeling that colleague seems to be. But, if I was going to make a connection to replace my Mexico trips, Rick was the best prospect out of all of the people I knew. Shortly after I found out about the arrests of other users in Mexico, Rick and I passed each other in the parking lot while on our way to work one morning.

“Gus, my man! ‘Sup bro?” he asked.

“Awww man, everything is fine except my aching back. Sure wish I had something to fix this up.”

“Really? What’s wrong?”

“Oh you know, my back gets all messed up sometimes and I need to take Percocet to get over it, but I am out and I can’t get in to see my doctor. Know where I can get any?”

That was it. I had dropped my line and all I had to do was wait for something to happen. If he didn’t bite, or didn’t have a connection, at least I hadn’t come out looking like a druggie. If he did bite, I’d reel in a new connection. After all, I made it clear that it was strictly for a medical purpose and that my doctor had even prescribed it for me. In the event he didn’t know anyone, my request would seem as though it were merely a matter of convenience, not a plea for relief by a hopeless drug addict.

“Sure man! No problem, Gus. I’ve got the digits right here” he said as he waved his cell phone.

Jackpot. If anyone in my sphere had a connection, I knew it would be Rick. Even better was the fact that Rick apparently had more than one source. The first call came up empty, so Rick merely scrolled through his speed dial list for another number, and yet another. As I waited patiently, he conducted a muted conversation on his cell phone. While he spoke, he flashed a thumbs-up. It was only 8:30 in the morning. This would be a great day. Percocet wasn’t what I was really after, but I figured that where there’s smoke, there’s fire, and if Rick had a connection for Percocet, then Oxycontin couldn’t be too far behind.

“We can get sixty if we go right now,” Rick said.

“Right now? Where to?” I replied.

“The Southside, of course Gus-man! My cousin is loaded! Let’s go.”

About this Blog

For the past ten years I have been writing about my experience using oxycodone, the active ingredient in OxyContin, Percocet, and other prescription painkillers. I eventually developed a tolerance, then dependence, and became addicted. My archive covers my abuse of these drugs and my effors to quit using them.

I have tried to accurately report my experience without a sense of advocacy. It is my hope that you'll be able to make your own conclusions, as well as find my story factual, informative, and interesting.