Can't Let it Happen Again (Part 2 of 2)

So, I'm there.

I broke out all of the supplies. The obligatory spoon, needle, cotton filter, lighter and pills.

I scraped off the coating and break the pill down into a fine powder. This effectively defeats the pill's time-release mechanism. A common misnomer is that the outer coating is the time-release and that you simply need to remove that. This is untrue as the time-release is contained throughout the pill in the form of a waxy matrix.

I used the edge of a credit card to scoop the powder into the spoon where I think mix it with water. Once I thoroughly mixed the contents, I briefly heated the underside of the spoon; this allows for any remaining time-release to separate temporarily from the oxycodone. The heating process is two-fold, really; it also helps bring the solution into a form that is more easily sucked into a syringe. After the brief heating, I wad up a piece of cotton to act as a filter. After wadding, I throw the cotton ball into the solution and proceed to suck every last drop of liquid out by placing the beveled-edge of the syringe upward and into the cotton. By then pulling back slowly, you are able to extract most of the contained oxycodone. I do not have any scientific figures, but I would estimate the extraction at being around 75-80%. So, with an 80mg pill, you are retaining approximately 60-65mg.

I let the solution cool and then use my belt as a tourniquet. I find a vein, enter it with the syringe at a slight angle, pull back on the plunger to assure that I am in a vein (this is called registering; you are in a vein if blood enters the barrel of the syringe when you pull back), and finally — when all things are right — inject the solution.

Within seconds it hits you. A feeling of warmth begins in the chest and rises into your neck. Moments later, all is well. Nothing matters, you haven't a care in the world.

This hit was especially nice given the extreme amount of time and anguish I was forced to endure. At this point, it feels as though it was all worth it; all of the pain, agony and feelings of hopelessness.

I had arrived in San Diego on a Friday; the Friday before the Monday in which I would begin a week-long session of classes. By Sunday, I was out of my supply. I had to figure something out and QUICK.

Being in an unknown city made it all the more difficult. I had no one to turn to or to call. I would have to improvise.

San Diego is a major border-town and entry point from Mexico. I knew that my chances of scoring were indeed more realistic there. I get on the bus and travel to a subway terminal; the one I arrived at happened to be in Fashion Valley. I get on the subway and ride all the way to its endpoint in San Ysidro, CA. At this stop, foot passengers are able to cross into Mexico without any trouble. There is not an inspection of any type when going into Mexico; you simply walk through a turn-style and you are in Tijuana, BC, Mexico.

Upon entering, you are greeted by a plethora of taxi cabs all seemingly offering the same service: US$5.00 to 'anywhere'. I find my target — someone who looked to be in the know (this is a skill you seemingly pick up when you become a junkie) — and ask him to take me to a Farmacia with Oxy. He seems to understand my request and we arrive at one slightly off the beaten path. I enter the establishment and am confronted by a local who speaks surprisingly good English. I tell him what I am looking for and he affirms that he does, in fact, have it. I ask to see one as proof. He knocks on a door behind him and a small wooden panel slides open. He makes his request in Spanish and is handed the pill. The gentleman tending the counter then hands it to me. I bought it and exited the store. I would have purchased more, but had a few small problems: I had only brought enough money for one and wanted first to ensure that they were real before making a larger purchase. I get back into the taxi cab waiting outside and further tip the driver. I then request to be taken back to the border. Upon crossing back into the United States, it was soon apparent that it would be a tad more difficult than it had been upon entering.

After being in line for over half an hour, I get to the inspector. I tell him that I have nothing to claim and show him my ID. He asks me a random question pertaining to the information on my ID; I answer and am told to go ahead. I made it.

I get back onto the subway and ride back to the Fashion Valley point. I then catch another taxi back to the hotel. As soon as I get back in the hotel room, I verify the authenticity of the pill. Yep. It was real. Everything broke down as normal. I now felt relieved to know that I had a connection for the duration of my stay.

I would continue to use this same Farmacia the entire time I was there. I ended up spending over US$1,000. Luckily, the company I worked for at the time was paying me US$100.00 for expenses each day. This greatly assisted me in my across-the-border purchases. However, it being a financial institution that I worked for, and the fact that I had an account through this institution, they were on the look-out (for my safety) for any unusual purchases. I received a phone call about a $400.00 purchase in Mexico; they just wanted to verify that it was, in fact, me. I confirmed that it was and made up an excuse as to why it was so much. I'm not entirely sure it was believed... It became a common joke at work from then on out.

My second trip to yet another training session wasn't quite as smooth.

A third trip, which happened to be in Atlanta, was worse (if that's even possible). I got into trouble with my superiors for not attending scheduled events; instead, I had decided to take a break and go on a Heroin run. While this was not evident to anyone else, it sure raised a few eyebrows as to why I would've left the confines of the conference. It further stood out because co-workers attended the trip with me; it was the first trip in which I was not alone.

This placed me under the watchful eyes of my superiors and co-workers alike. I am sure that they noticed something was awry. I mean, first off, we had all planned to ride in the company van on our way to Atlanta. Realizing that this would be the demise to my mobility, I made up something to coerce my boss to allow me to drive my personal vehicle instead. This was viewed as strange as confirmed by various people inquiring as to why I'd driven myself. Was it really any of their business?

On the second day of the conference, we (including members from other financial institutions) all assembled in the hotel's main lobby. It was there that I realized that I would be going to be a guest to various speakers. I quickly scanned the itinerary trying to locate lunch or any other sizable break. There was nothing more than a few ten minute-breaks and a paltry thirty-minute lunch. This was beginning to look disastrous. I had intended on using this time to score. This discovery literally opened the floodgate of physical withdrawal symptoms. As I have found out over the last six years, early detox symptoms are primarily psychological. The more you think about your drug of choice (DOC), the more severe these psychologically-induced physical symptoms will be. This is, however, dependent on when your last dose was; if you're under the 18-24 hour mark, you can safely assess that what you are feeling is brought on by psychological stress. This is the general rule of thumb for MOST opioids. Their are exceptions to this rule, though. If you have been ingesting an opioid with a very short half-life (such as fentanyl) your actual withdrawal will occur a lot quicker.

I enter my first session, my second, my thi... at this point, I realized I was not going to be able to tough it out. I made a call and put in my order. I left the hotel's parking garage and headed toward my street pharmacist. Considering the time of day — around noon — I made pretty poor time. It was slow that my connect called me asking if I still intended to come. I reassured him that I was on my way.

I get back to the hotel approximately two hours later; and this is just getting back to the parking garage. I still had yet to go up into my hotel room and do any dope. So, all in all, I was gone for approximately two-and-a-half hours. I returned to the convention — thoroughly refreshed — and attempted to continue attending the events as if nothing had happened. It was then that I was approached by my boss. He, in a very negative tone, asked where I had been. For a moment, I wanted to tell him that I had been there the whole time; but, I didn't, I told him I had gone to visit a local friend. I acted as though I was unaware I had to attend the sessions that I had missed. I simply told him that I understood them to be optional as they did not directly relate to my role within the company. Although still very angry, he decided to let it slide temporarily.

So, what does all of this have to do with the blog's post?

These types of activities eventually led to my being let go earlier this year. It was "technically" for tardiness, but I knew the real reason. It was made very clear by my boss that he would not tolerate the kind of slacking off that I had continually been found guilty of. To paraphrase this blog's title, I will NOT let this happen again at any job for any reason. It is over. Playtime has ended indefinitely.