Friday nights

Posted: September 16, 2011 in Anxiety, Drug abuse, Me and alcohol, Recovery

To me, a sure sign of old age creeping in…..is looking forward to Friday nights

Not because it’s the beginning of the weekend bender, but because it’s a night off to chill at home, put on my slippers, keep warm and a chance to sleep in just a bit extra in the morning. Oh yes, and to bug the Debonairs people for a delivery (when I was single and a vino drinker I used to ask them to send a good looking delivery guy !!! Ha ha)

<Porra usually works Saturdays and wakes me up early-ish anyhow>

In my late teens and for many years thereafter, Friday nights were a big party night. Club hopping around JHB city centre in my convertible jeep.

You remember those days when you wouldn’t have dreamed of staying in on a Friday night ? When you only went out at eleven pm ?

In my using days, I used to go buy my coke from my dealer Ike, on a Friday lunchtime so as to not waste any precious time after work going and scoring. So as not to interupt my drinking.  I would shoot through to Hillbrow in my lunch hour.

Because Ike hadn’t bagged it all up yet in preparation for the Friday night rush, he would measure it out when I got there and I always thought yee haa ! ….I got abit extra.

He and his brother operated from a dingy flat that smelt like chemicals and cigarette smoke (for obvious reasons, they cooked the stuff there). There was a room for hardened druggies to take their stuff while they were there. I suppose they couldn’t wait. Or they had been kicked out of home. I’m not sure whether Ike sold stuff other than coke.

He did ask me to be a drug mule for him once. Something about taking grass overseas. In hindsight (and as an avid watcher of Carte Blanche)….I suspect it would have been a coke drug run……and not really grass)…..but luckily for me, I was not desperate for money and didn’t take up the offer of an overseas trip with Ike’s suitcase.

Friday’s after work at a company I was at for ten years had an alcoholics dream policy. Bar opened at 4pm. All were invited to the pub. However, if you did not go to the pub, you were not allowed to leave early……so the bar used to heave at 4pm

So my weekend binge would usually start with the free booze at the work pub which went on quite late. Then it would be off home to prepare for the evenings clubbing.

As my coke habit got worse and worse, I would start snorting it earlier in the evening on a Friday. I started my weekend snorting at work sometimes.

Why I ever enjoyed coke I have no idea. It is powered anxiety.

If I was well oiled with booze, coke was great for …what I thought was……sobering me up at a night club and extending my evening time wise. A huge problem for me was that I tended to get plastered pretty quickly …… and coke was the magic solution. I could drink like a sailor and still remain vertical.

But then I started snorting earlier and earlier…..and on my own at inappropriate times and occassions……….at a baby shower I recall, at a Greek wedding (couldn’t touch the excellent buffet…..coke squashes your appetite completely) and a best friends morning wedding ….

After copious amounts of booze and coke and cigarettes on a Friday night, I spent most of Saturday recovering.

Returning home from nightclubbing on a Saturday morning….it was always impossible to sleep because of the coke.

<I would usually have returned to Ike for a gram top up in the middle of the night so was two grams by this stage>

So……sleeping pills were the way to go.

Living on my own and in the days before cell phones told you what day it was, I sometimes woke up not knowing which freaking day it was.

The most horrible feeling in the world for me was coming down off coke, feeling miserable as all hell, but not being able to fall asleep. Caught in a miserable twilight zone.

So yup…..I could have been an Amy Winehouse during this hectic two or three year period or been desperate enough to do a trip for Ike.

There go I, but for the grace of God.

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s