When I first started taking Xanax with methadone years ago I would blackout and go on ungodly binges. Once I blacked out for a whole week. I came out of this Xanax haze only to find that I was walking in the absolute worst crack infested neighborhood in Orlando. I didn't know how I got there or why I was there. So I spot my car about a block down. I walk up to it and this ghetto chick comes out of the house and says "Lets go I got the shit. We about to hit the block."
I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say so I got in the car and we proceeded to drive around in my car selling crack. Curiosity and sanity got the best of me so I start inquiring as to how we knew each other and what we were doing. She slammed on the breaks and looked at me like I was nuts. She said "Boy! you don't remember meeting me. Smoking a thousand dollars in crack and then going off to get more money. Only to come back with your dad's credit card. You don't remember filling up peoples tanks for money."
" Damn.... I guess not." Was my best reply
"Boy your dad was one pissed off motherfucka when he called. He done cut the card off 'cause you done spent $3000"
I gasped in horror. I was literally unable to breath and grabbing my chest. I was so ashamed to go home that I rode around with this chick for 3 more days hustling crack and smoking the profit. On one of these days I went to the methadone clinic only to find out that I had already gone there when I was blacked out on the wrong day. They took one look at me and led me to the back for a drug test, which I had immediately failed. They had then refused to dose me because I was positive for benzos and proceeded to do the same thing for the next 4 days.
On the last day we were running low on cash so this chick drives to this old ass dudes house. He buys crack under the pretense that she fuck him. So there I am sitting in this dirty ass kitchen at 4:00 in the morning withdrawing from methadone and smoking crack, while this chick and the guy's moans compete with blaring porn in the next room. All the while I am banging on the door demanding more crack. They finally get pissed at me and throw me a few more rocks.
The next morning I walk out to the car only to find that I am out of gas and money and must walk two miles with the gas can to beg for gas. I am still withdrawing from methadone and now coming down from a hellacious crack binge. I manage to get the gas, the car and more gas to make it to the clinic downtown. I finally get half of my dose while they observe me. Only to be met by my dad, who promptly turns me over to their rehab service. Where I am met by more madness that can be followed soon in "The Rehab Chronicles".
Just make sure you stick a needle in my arm, I'll speedbawl back to health real quick!
![:\](https://bluelight.org/xf/BL_Images/Orig_Emoji/wrygrin.gif "wry grin :\")
