Chasing highs
Late on Saturday evening a young woman and man around 25-30 years old approached me on an eastern suburbs rank. Their casual attire of shorts and thongs coupled with a wandering gait suggested, maybe, a lazy afternoon BBQ followed by an informal party.
Rather than being legless and raucous from too much grog, they appeared pleasantly wasted after a relaxed evening. However shortly after they had climbed into the back seat, I detected a different atmosphere when the girl muttered, “Nup, that stuff was shit...I want a real high.”
The fella quietly replied, “Babe, don’t stress over the things you can’t have, ‘cause you’ll never enjoy the things you can have.” “But I want to,” she countered, “I never had any problems in London. It was always around and I never had to pay for it.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but here it’s the difference between thirty bucks or three hundred, or even four hundred bucks. Even if you could afford it, that’s too much money to go crazy about.”
These figures tallied with the price of ecstasy pills and grams of cocaine....
“But I love getting high,” she protested. “You just don’t understand how nice it is.” “Bullshit,” he retorted, “I’ve pretty much taken everything under the sun. It’s just that I don’t need it like you do.”
After which he delivered a patient, yet cliché-ridden lecture - ‘you’re chasing the dragon’; ‘real control can only come from inside’; ‘you need to harden your willpower; blah, blah’. It was clear her drug usage was out of control.
Apparently she had recently returned from overseas where she’d indulged heavily in high-grade party drugs. Yet the quality of drugs they were familiar with in Sydney were somewhat inferior and much more expensive than in London.
Thus the dodgy pills and iffy coke in their local social circle just didn’t work anymore. With her newly acquired tolerance she couldn’t settle for second best due to a drug habit beyond recreational.
“Look, I can take you up the Cross now and score that shit,” he explained, “but you’ll be in a really sleazy scene. Those hard-core clubbers will use you up, seriously, ‘cause nothing is free in that world. You’ll end up slutting just to get the same high you got overseas and I like you too much to let that happen.”
In my peripheral vision she was hunched against the door, knees drawn up to her chest and head leaning on the window. “Babe, I think you’re an amazing girl,” he said, “but if you give me any more bullshit I’ll slap you, okay? I’m not saying don’t party, just don’t go chasing it. If it’s there, sure, party on. But if you’re going to be controlled by what you can’t have then you’ll never be happy.”
In response she quietly sobbed, “But I really want to get high tonight...” “Stop it,” he said, though instead of slapping her, he slid across the seat and wrapped her in his arms. The cab fell silent for the remainder of the journey.
After they alighted I watched in the rear mirror as he forced open her folded arms to give her a full-body embrace. I wondered how long he could persevere, before realising her dicey predicament may be beyond his patience or capabilities.
Ideally, she’d accept her friend’s patently reasonable advice, although I couldn’t see that happening whilst ever she needed to get really high.
Still, good luck to her, she’s going to need every ounce of inner strength.
Yaaay.... 'ullo there ol' son :-)
Didya have a break... or just swap one "responsibility" for another!
Cheers
Posted by: Ian | January 29, 2008 at 08:35 AM
Ick.
"Drugs are bad Mmm-kay.."
Posted by: Dataceptionist | January 29, 2008 at 09:02 AM
Welcome back.
Can't believe that passengers treat you like you're invisible but it sure leads to some interesting stories. Isn't drugtaking illegal? (tongue firmly in cheek)
Posted by: jayjay | January 29, 2008 at 10:48 AM
Passengers often treat you like you're invisible. In this case, it's the girl who's already under the influence of drugs who's doing it. I guess there's a point wher passengers realise cab drivers have seen everything and don't care.
Posted by: shadow | January 29, 2008 at 03:43 PM
God I hate scumbag junkies. One of the minor joys of my life was spotting a dealer dropping gear and needles over a fence to a woman I was looking after (mental illness sufferer) -let's just say the next few minutes of his life were not very pleasant or comfortable...
Posted by: Goldstein | January 29, 2008 at 05:05 PM
Welcome back Adrian, I've missed reading you.
Poor love, let's hope she doesn't find what she is looking for.
Posted by: LaLa | January 29, 2008 at 09:03 PM
“but if you give me any more bullshit I’ll slap you, okay!"
Great line to fight drug dependency. It looks to me like the young Lady needs to give up drugs and bad company. Sadly most drug users have to hit rock bottom in order to change their life. Good luck to her.
Good to see you back Adrian.
Posted by: Rainer.the.cabbie | January 29, 2008 at 10:24 PM
wellcome back,i did 4 semi shifts over the long weekend and if i could put the stories like you i could write a book about the weekend,great money but some of the most bazare fares in 28 years of driving,and i even found cafe barista an had a coffee there.
still looking out for you cheers
the firefighging cabbie.
Posted by: manly cabbie | January 31, 2008 at 10:15 PM
Yay! You are back!
Posted by: waddafak | February 01, 2008 at 10:02 PM
Bloody junkies...a mate of mine saw a drug deal happening in the car park of a suburban tavern here in Brissie in broad daylight. When they went inside the pub he found the bootlid open, and saw a plastic bag with what looked to be $50 notes in it - grabbed it, went straight home and counted $8k, all in legit $50 notes.
He's got a nice plasma and home theatre system out of it....
Posted by: Bne cabbie | February 02, 2008 at 12:38 PM
Three months later, and I find you are back blogging. I thought you quit!
Posted by: scottks | March 15, 2008 at 01:24 PM