April 22nd 1998: People Like Me

I’ve spent the entire day with this guy Niles; well to tell you the truth I’m not exactly sure if that was actually his name. I know that I spent the majority of the day with him but I just never got around to the physical act of asking him his name, but its pretty close to that and I really like the way that ‘Niles’ sounds, so from here on in he’ll be referred to as such, okay?
I was killing time at Pacific Place with James; he was eating a hamburger or some odd thing as I watched on inquisitively. I don’t remember the last time I’ve actually had something that resembled an appetite but there really was something about this burger that really appealed to me. I thought about it for a few minutes and after much debate I finally decided to get myself one, I had to, I’d been staring at the damn thing for well over ten minutes for crying out loud. I took one bite of the thing and suddenly remembered why it was again that I had forsaken food for heroin, I put down the damned thing in disgust and it was then that I bumped into Niles.
I was greeted with a “Are you going to finish that?” I turned around to see this tiny disheveled man-child in a blood soaked t-shirt, a sort of strung-out Oliver Twist. I told him to take it and he sat down and started munching away. Now, I knew this guy from the methadone clinic, as I know most of my acquaintances, and we’d split some dope a couple of times and said our farewells but beyond that there really wasn’t much else.
We sat and chatted for a while, supposedly Niles had spent the last two nights sleeping on the roof of Pacific Place. See he had just run away from the hospital after he had gouged out a Naltrexone implant from his stomach with a penknife, hence the blood. I’ve actually been talking to this doctor about one of those implants, chock full of the world’s premier opiate blocker for up to six weeks. There’s no way in hell though that I could actually afford the procedure. But it does sound enticing, detox in less than 12 hours without feeling a thing, guaranteed month and a half clean, how could anyone not want one?
By the time the conversation turned to smack, we were already on the train and I had abandoned James, hitting him up for twenty bucks along the way. Niles had the word on this dope that was half the price as usual. It was further away and quality was sometimes shaky but at such low-low prices, I just had to have some.
During the long train ride out, conversation was thin other than who we ran into while scoring lately, who’s a scumbag, who’s not, who’s been busted and who’s dead. Not your typical early Friday afternoon dialogue but you have to look at it this way. We are exactly the same as two housewives gossiping back and forth to each other over a clothesline. Sure, the subject matter may be the polar opposite of “what color did Brenda dye her hair?” but you have to see that the essence is exactly the same, no matter how lurid the topic. And regardless of how hip or hardcore we sometimes believe we might be, there’s no escaping that we really weren’t, and we knew it.
Niles procured the outfits, scored; well actually he took care of just about everything right down to prepping my shot for me. As much as I enjoy the ritualistic properties of scoring and fixing it was really quite a nice change of pace to have someone do all my work for me.
After scoring, we ducked into what was possibly one of the filthiest public bathrooms I had seen in a quite some time. Believe you me, I’ve been to some soiled bathrooms in my life, its part of the job, but this one just struck me. There was blood on the walls, there was no toilet paper, nothing that was classically associated with a ‘bathroom,’ and I loved every inch of it. Don’t ask me why but there’s just something about a scummy bathroom that gets me off, maybe its doing drugs in them, maybe it’s the dirt and grime, I don’t know but that’s just the way it is and I was simultaneously disgusted and thrilled with that thought.
Like I said before Niles prepped my shot for me, so as he handed me the rig, I was tying off with my belt. It took me a moment but I found a suitable route, got a register and hit home, I heard this loud cry coming from Niles. I turned, needle still in my arm to see blood jetting from Niles’ wrist.
You see, Niles had a quite a habit but he lacked the veins to keep up with himself. Working his way down from the crook of the arm/elbow area, he landed at his wrists. And as most people know there’s an artery down there, the veritable blood highway, so when a needle hits that, the blood is traveling at such an incredible speed that it has no option but to shoot right through that thing. The blood rose up through the needle, filled the chamber and ejaculated the plunger all within a matter of milliseconds and now blood was painting the walls.
I was frozen, I didn’t know what to do, and sure I’d heard of this sort of thing happening but to actually see it just held me in check. I would have almost been amused if it wasn’t such a repulsive sight, and with the dope kicking in, I just stood there gazing at this scene. All the while, Niles is cursing, “Fuck, my shot! Fuck, my shot!” as blood spewed forth in a revolting yet almost beautiful pattern. He got a hold of himself and plucked the rig from his wrist and quickly applied pressure with his free hand.
He scuttled to the floor, picked up the plunger and fixed himself a new shot, this time, steering clear of the wrist. Loaded, he slunk to the floor next to where I still stood stunned, he looked up to me and said what I’d been thinking but could not bring myself to say, “whoa!”
Before I knew it, it was already three o’ clock, school was just about ending and I’d already been gone for hours. I’d been all across Hong Kong and was nodding at the Holiday Inn for at least an hour. And all that was really required of me was to follow this guy along, hand over my money and stick a needle in my vein and boot a shot home. I really couldn’t ask for anything more, I mean here was everything that was required in my day wrapped up in convenience, dope, kinship and even the extravagance of someone to organize my using with. I should be set right? I mean, this is what I’m thinking, I could ask for nothing more. But in the midst of all this convenience and affinity I feel… tainted, dirty, I don’t know what.
Earlier this afternoon, lying there in that filth ridden public toilet, in between nodding and blood-painting escapades, it occurred to me, in stunning, true to life, 3D, high definition, surround sound. This is where I have taken my life. This is where I choose to be. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty sure that I knew this all along, I mean I’m not completely blind. It’s just that Niles, came across to me as this stereotypical scumbag, you know, dirty, grimy, doesn’t care about anyone or anything. And this is the guy that I’m hanging out with! Does that mean I’m a scumbag too? You see, that’s the trouble with people like me, when you assort with them, no matter how negative or disheartening it may be, you can’t help but realize how much like them you really are. And believe me, I am.