Heroinism - Saved By A Junky

Ten years is a long time. 2008 - The year of our most recent financial collapse. Our journeys began in different parts of the United States that morning, he resided in San Diego, California and I woke up in Parker, Arizona. Our paths were scheduled to cross in Las Vegas, Nevada in a few more hours when we arrived at the same place, at the same time, each with the same intention: Build Aria Tower.

I walked in the dispatchers office just before 8:30 am for clearance to Aria and the guy right in front of me is Nate - Nate from San Diego. He’s going to Aria, too.

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Heroinism - Saved By A Junky

Aria was one of nine towers being constructed simultaneously to form City Center in Las Vegas. Getting in and out of that project was a mess! That city is shoulder to shoulder congestion without new construction, add a dozen high rises and the amount of vehicles on the road is not manageable. I got a bicycle that first week and bypassed all of it. The next morning I peddled to the job and that was the end of driving on and off that site. When I got to the lock-up section, Nate was there, he’s locking up a bicycle, too. I haven’t seen him since dispatch. We caught up with each other and exchanged phone numbers. He was staying closer to the job than I was, my daily commute was a couple miles farther than his. From that day on, he and I peddled all over that city. Not just to and from the project but everywhere. I’d meet him at his place in the morning, we’d grab a coffee, ride into work and then peddle up and down The Strip at night. Bar tenders knew us by our first name’s and vice versa. Or at least that’s how I remember it.

Fun fact: Both of us were struck by vehicles while peddling our bicycles during that time and not just once. Two cars hit him, two cars and one truck hit me, a total of five collisions. Scrapes and bruises were the extent of our physical injuries and both of our bicycles were only out of commission once. But we did get hit and we did fall down! Consider this your warning: Not one vehicle stopped! Five hit and runs from five different drivers. Hey, Vegas:

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Fast forward a couple months. I show up at Nate’s place, he gets on his bicycle and we take off to get a cup of coffee. He said “I hooked up with a chick last night, I got some Speedball from her.” I’m going to refrain from incriminating myself right here; I’ll just confess it’s a long time ago, life was different: Whiskey.. Single.. Bad decisions and things of that nature were my normal. I turned toward him and said “what’s that?” He described a recipe of heroin and cocaine. “Heroin????” He has my attention now and Nate’s a pro! He’s been on and off that stuff for years. “Oh it’s on after work!” I was excited that day, I could hardly wait for the day to be over so I could see what all the hype was about. For as long as I can remember all I’d ever heard was ‘impossible to kick’ and ‘don’t do it,’ how dangerous, addictive, intense and, and, and but I’m still stupid curious - I like to experience those things first hand and form my own opinion. It’s quitting time, finally, that day took forever. We made it to his place in about 15 minutes - Yes!

He pulled out a pair of syringes and set them on the table in front of us. He sprinkled some grainy, dark-colored rocks onto a spoon. There’s a tiny piece of sponge looking material on the spoon, too, it’s blue. With the spoon in one hand, he struck a lighter with the other and held the flame under the spoon until the rock began to boil. Through the heroin and cocaine merged a muddy brown liquid that coagulated around the sponge. “Speedball.” He poked the sponge with the needle and drew back the potion. He removed his belt from his waist. I’ve been sitting across the table from him throughout this process getting a front row view of this chemistry-like procedure. The dope’s in the syringe now and it’s time to party! He looked at me and said “you wanna go first?” I arrived at a Fork In The Road and now it’s time to make a choice - Yes or No. “No, hell no! I’m not going first, you go right ahead, show me how it’s done.”

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He wrapped the belt around his bicep and tightened it with his free hand. He held the belt tight with his teeth and smacked his arm a couple times. A vein popped up. He stuck the needle in his arm as I intently watched every moment, making sure when it’s my turn I know exactly what to do and what to expect. For many years I was intrigued by heroin but that’s it, intrigued, I never had the opportunity, until now, to experiment with it. The moment he squeezed that plunger and emptied the contents of that syringe into his bloodstream everything changed.

He instantly slumped over in his chair. Imagine snapping your fingers and in that split-second your buddy who’s sitting across the table from you just went limp and started snoring. He’s slumped over against the window, his neck is kinked in a terribly uncomfortable looking position, he’s turning purple and soaked in sweat. One more thing - There’s a needle protruding from his forearm.
Now what?!

It seemed like an eternity but he was probably only unconscious for 30 seconds. I wasn’t sure if I should call his wife, call his mother, I don’t know their numbers, I know he has two kids, I had no idea what to do. He regained consciousness and took the needle out of his arm. He removed the belt from around his bicep and immediately started clawing at his neck. He’s digging at his throat now as though he’s having an allergic reaction. His eyes are swollen to the point of closed shut and he’s mumbling something to me: “Yaawwnnago.” “Yaaneadddy ferryerture.” I couldn’t make out what he was saying. “You good Nate?!” His eyes are still swollen shut as he pulls himself up in his chair. He never stopped clawing at his throat. “You good?” I said to him, he faced me with his eyes closed and said “you ready?” I pointed at him with a look of dire concern and said “and do that?! No way! That (watching his every movement) doesn’t look like fun at all! I’m out!” I stuck around a little while longer until he was able to carry on a conversation with me and then I split. I went back to where I was staying, he continued partying at his place and I met back up with him in the morning to peddle to work.

He didn’t make it to work that next day. He missed the next couple of days. Then a couple days turned into a week. It was hit and miss for him for the remainder of his time there. His “good morning” turned into “I’m sick.” For the next month it seemed like he was always sick and he eventually stopped going to work. I couldn’t help him, I couldn’t talk him into going to work with me or peddle around at night anymore. He’d have a good day here and there but he couldn’t shake his demons and things are going from really bad to worse. He didn’t last in Las Vegas much longer, by the end of the next month his wife finally came out, touted his belongings back home and got him admitted to a facility. Soon to follow were the divorce papers.

Heroinism - Up until that point, admittedly, I was curious. Everything about that drug was speculative so my loose cannon mentality was consistently eager to draw my own conclusion. Not anymore! Thanks to that day and thanks to you, Nate, for puncturing your arm first, I have no desire to experiment with it. Hair ron, black tar, smack, juice, mr. brownstone, whatever you want to call it, I’m not interested.

Thanks Junky, I needed that, I’m forever grateful. As I type this post to you, you’re one of two things: Recovering / Addicted and I’ve never stuck myself with anything to get high. From the bottom of my heart, brother, you’re an angel, I can’t thank you enough.

Love always,

@dandays

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