There are moments in our lives that are seared into our minds forever. These moments are often turning points in our stories, towering tsunamis of change that crash onto the shores of our lives and change our futures in infinite ways. But sometimes, the waves are small, rolling gently through the sand. We don’t always notice these, and yet it’s these that can steer your life into places you’d never contemplated, one delicate wave at a time. This was one such moment for me. I couldn’t have known the significance of it at the time. Such a simple, unremarkable thing – a little white bottle held in a hand, the first of many hundreds of little bottles – my little white and green soldiers.
I think I shit myself when she told me the price. “Forty bucks,” she said, proudly. For a moment I kind of just stared at the bottle. Like, really? This bottle of whatever it is with the cheap label and stupid green leaf (looked like weed) on the cap is how much?
The self-shitting lasted exactly 4.5 seconds. Fuck it. Google’s no liar – this shit’s the real deal. Gimme. I excitedly handed her my card. She took it, then looked at me. I mean she looked right into me, I swear. “You know about this stuff? Damn near cure anything – except stupid. Can’t cure stupid,” she whispered. To this day I’m not sure if she was warning me, calling me stupid, or just liked getting her creep on with customers. I laughed. “I researched it. Good for my back pain,” I said. She nodded, then did that weird granny grin again, and ran my card. I remember everything felt like it was going in slow motion. I just wanted to get the K and get home so I could take the shit and get on the happy train. Finally, she handed me my card back and gave me the bottle. “Let me know how that goes for ya,” she said, then ambled away as old ladies do.
I got in the car and sat there, staring at the bottle. Full disclosure here – I’m a fucking wuss when it comes to taking new pills. I know – the irony -the comedy of an addict who’s afraid to pop whatever he’s handed, right?
I think I got back home faster than I got to the vape shop -cops in my town really don’t give a fuck about speeders, apparently. I put my new buddy K on the dresser and decided I should do some further research on proper dosage, etc. “Proper dosage…” I’m laughing as I write this because it just occurred to me how much work being an addict is. Think about how much planning and thinking and storytelling and researching goes into getting our fix. We’re not junkies, we’re geniuses. So much wasted time and brain cells and money we’ll never get back.
Most people online agreed newbie dosage is four capsules, with the note that if you didn’t feel anything, take two more (the mission statement of any addict if ever I heard one). Okay, I thought. Here we go. Bags packed, happy train’s coming down the tracks.
This is gonna be amazing.
But, you know that thing about first times…?