I blink and I am 8 years old out again playin in the yard with my friends, the smell is still in the air from the storm last night and I am enjoying the life of any average child that grows up in the American suburbs. Mom calls me to come in for dinner and I take off running toward my house. I blink again and am now 13 years old with my friends waiting outside the movie theater for my brother to pick me up after the movie. One of us shouts at a car as it drives past us and we all break out in a fit of laughter. We sit and talk about the movie until my friend’s mom comes and I just sit by myself in silence waiting for my ride. I blink one more time and I am 16 years old hanging out in my garage after the school football game on Friday night. I have a cold beer in my hand and mark is passing me a joint on my left. We are all a good mood and just happy to be out of school for the weekend. Life is good and I don’t have a care in the world.
I now open my eyes and realize I must have nodded out for at least twenty minutes. Except now when I open my eyes I am not in the front yard of my house or at the movies with my friends or in my garage hanging out. Now I am 19 years old and I am in a Chevy Tahoe sitting some where on the west side of Chicago. I take out my cell phone and see 6 missed calls. Damn I must have nodded out while I waited for L to come and drop off my dope. I call back the number and wait for the receiver to pick up on the other end of the line. Ring. ring. Ring.. Hello? Hey where the fuck where you at man. “o sorry I must have missed your call man” I called you six times you dumbass. “sorry dude, I must just not have heard the phone ring over my stereo.” Well im not even around any more so your shit outta luck.. click….. Fuck do I hate dope dealers, I wish this asshole didn’t have what I wanted otherwise I would never associate with a prick. But in the land of junkies and dealers there is a strange relationship, and even thought they both need each other in a sense, the dealers are always the ones who seem to have the power. Either way none of this matters cause Im all the way out here in the ghetto and I missed my meet for my dope. This is the point where I would normally go through my list of dealers numbers but I forgot the paper at home in my dresser and I don’t like to keep there numbers in my phone for obvious reasons, so I am forced to hit the street looking for some one to sell me some heroin. Not one of my favorite things to do on a Saturday afternoon in one of the most police laden places I have ever laid my eyes on, but I can’t just turn my car around and go home with out dope because that is just not possible.
When buying drugs in the ghetto there are a few important things to know that will keep you safe and on the right track to what you want. First know where you’re going. Nothing is worse than aimlessly driving around in the ghetto not knowing where you are or where your trying to get to, this is a good way for police and people that you don’t need to be associating with to notice you. Secondly you never give your money out until you see the product, if you hand someone your money who say’s there going to come right back, what incentive do you give them to ever come back with your money, especially if there not a dealer. Imagine how many times people drive up to black guys in the ghetto asking for drugs, wouldn’t you try to get money fronted to you too if you could, seems like a good way to get money for free to me. And thirdly have a plan for things incase they take a bad turn. Taking a bad turn is a blanket phrase for a whole slew of things that can go awry in the ghetto. This includes such situations as carjacking, get arrested, getting robbed, getting beat up, getting beat up by cops, unexpected gang fight/ shoot out and other variable situations that make a seemingly simple task much more daunting. Now that you have a good idea of what can possibly happen when you are in the ghetto, you have a much better chance of preparing for the situation and keeping yourself out of trouble.
So here I find my self on the corner of central and Gladys on the Westside and in midday light. I lean my seat back a far as I can while still being able to look out the window and make a right turn. I always like to have the radio turned down so I can fully concentrate on my surroundings and here what is going on outside. I pass a couple of guys on the left side of the road and they whistle at me, rocks. Not what I am interested in today and I cruse on past them. It has always amazed me how in the right part of town you can literally drive up and purchase heroin and cocaine right on the street. It is a concept that most drug users are not familiar with but one I have come to know quite well. You see cars lined down the block and runners going back and forth with money and drugs in hand. It is a part of society that most would like to pretend does not exist, something that has been pushed into the “ bad neighborhoods” but one that is all to real for the residents and the people that have to call these neighborhoods home. I turn another right and see a group of guys standing on the corner and I slowly roll past them making eye contact. Rock’s blows, rocks blows they shout. I pull my car in-between a Lincoln navigator and an older Cadillac and wait as a younger guy runs up to my window. Hey whatchu want man. “ you do 4 blows for thirty?” ya man I can do that, just go pull your car up in that alley and ill be right back in a minute. Alright.
This is the part I hate the most, sitting like a fish in a barrel waiting for that scene that I have played out in my head over and over again to manifest itself into reality. The cops pull behind me and pull me outta the car. Obviously knowing what I am here for they immediately search the car and find the need I have tucked in-between my seat, without hesitation they throw me in the back of the squad and off to cook county I go to sweat out my withdrawals for the next week and a half. But these thoughts are pushed out for a moment as I see the kid run back up to the car, I roll down the window half way and take the thirty dollars off of my lap and stick it halfway out the window in my tightly clutched fist. The runner puts his hand into my car and drops 4 pieces of aluminum foil wrapped in what looks like electrical tape into my hand as I loosen the grip on my money. as he begins to spout of his phone number to me, I put it in my phone throw my car in drive while sticking the tape wrapped foils into my mouth. I give him a nod as I drive down toward the end of the alley cautiously looking to the left and the right before I turn back onto the road.
I like to carry something to drink with me in the car incase the police pull behind me and I have to swallow down the dope in a pinch, usually buying a bottle of water off one of the homeless people that sell them at most of the exits into the ghetto, for whatever amount of change you are willing to throw them . That way even if I get arrested for some reason I wont be charged with possession and I will have some dope to look forward to within 24 hours once I am in jail. But hopefully none of that will happen today as I make a left back onto central toward the 290 exits. I pull next to an undercover car at the stoplight and do as little as possible to draw attention to the fact that I am white and sitting next to them right now. This is possibly one of the most nerve racking situations you can be in, a mouth full of heroin and the fact that I am entirely the wrong color is a combination that does not fill me with confidence in this moment but luckily the light turns green and he makes a right as I continue going straight toward the exit.
substancecode_heroin
substancecode_opioids
categorycode_retrospective
I now open my eyes and realize I must have nodded out for at least twenty minutes. Except now when I open my eyes I am not in the front yard of my house or at the movies with my friends or in my garage hanging out. Now I am 19 years old and I am in a Chevy Tahoe sitting some where on the west side of Chicago. I take out my cell phone and see 6 missed calls. Damn I must have nodded out while I waited for L to come and drop off my dope. I call back the number and wait for the receiver to pick up on the other end of the line. Ring. ring. Ring.. Hello? Hey where the fuck where you at man. “o sorry I must have missed your call man” I called you six times you dumbass. “sorry dude, I must just not have heard the phone ring over my stereo.” Well im not even around any more so your shit outta luck.. click….. Fuck do I hate dope dealers, I wish this asshole didn’t have what I wanted otherwise I would never associate with a prick. But in the land of junkies and dealers there is a strange relationship, and even thought they both need each other in a sense, the dealers are always the ones who seem to have the power. Either way none of this matters cause Im all the way out here in the ghetto and I missed my meet for my dope. This is the point where I would normally go through my list of dealers numbers but I forgot the paper at home in my dresser and I don’t like to keep there numbers in my phone for obvious reasons, so I am forced to hit the street looking for some one to sell me some heroin. Not one of my favorite things to do on a Saturday afternoon in one of the most police laden places I have ever laid my eyes on, but I can’t just turn my car around and go home with out dope because that is just not possible.
When buying drugs in the ghetto there are a few important things to know that will keep you safe and on the right track to what you want. First know where you’re going. Nothing is worse than aimlessly driving around in the ghetto not knowing where you are or where your trying to get to, this is a good way for police and people that you don’t need to be associating with to notice you. Secondly you never give your money out until you see the product, if you hand someone your money who say’s there going to come right back, what incentive do you give them to ever come back with your money, especially if there not a dealer. Imagine how many times people drive up to black guys in the ghetto asking for drugs, wouldn’t you try to get money fronted to you too if you could, seems like a good way to get money for free to me. And thirdly have a plan for things incase they take a bad turn. Taking a bad turn is a blanket phrase for a whole slew of things that can go awry in the ghetto. This includes such situations as carjacking, get arrested, getting robbed, getting beat up, getting beat up by cops, unexpected gang fight/ shoot out and other variable situations that make a seemingly simple task much more daunting. Now that you have a good idea of what can possibly happen when you are in the ghetto, you have a much better chance of preparing for the situation and keeping yourself out of trouble.
So here I find my self on the corner of central and Gladys on the Westside and in midday light. I lean my seat back a far as I can while still being able to look out the window and make a right turn. I always like to have the radio turned down so I can fully concentrate on my surroundings and here what is going on outside. I pass a couple of guys on the left side of the road and they whistle at me, rocks. Not what I am interested in today and I cruse on past them. It has always amazed me how in the right part of town you can literally drive up and purchase heroin and cocaine right on the street. It is a concept that most drug users are not familiar with but one I have come to know quite well. You see cars lined down the block and runners going back and forth with money and drugs in hand. It is a part of society that most would like to pretend does not exist, something that has been pushed into the “ bad neighborhoods” but one that is all to real for the residents and the people that have to call these neighborhoods home. I turn another right and see a group of guys standing on the corner and I slowly roll past them making eye contact. Rock’s blows, rocks blows they shout. I pull my car in-between a Lincoln navigator and an older Cadillac and wait as a younger guy runs up to my window. Hey whatchu want man. “ you do 4 blows for thirty?” ya man I can do that, just go pull your car up in that alley and ill be right back in a minute. Alright.
This is the part I hate the most, sitting like a fish in a barrel waiting for that scene that I have played out in my head over and over again to manifest itself into reality. The cops pull behind me and pull me outta the car. Obviously knowing what I am here for they immediately search the car and find the need I have tucked in-between my seat, without hesitation they throw me in the back of the squad and off to cook county I go to sweat out my withdrawals for the next week and a half. But these thoughts are pushed out for a moment as I see the kid run back up to the car, I roll down the window half way and take the thirty dollars off of my lap and stick it halfway out the window in my tightly clutched fist. The runner puts his hand into my car and drops 4 pieces of aluminum foil wrapped in what looks like electrical tape into my hand as I loosen the grip on my money. as he begins to spout of his phone number to me, I put it in my phone throw my car in drive while sticking the tape wrapped foils into my mouth. I give him a nod as I drive down toward the end of the alley cautiously looking to the left and the right before I turn back onto the road.
I like to carry something to drink with me in the car incase the police pull behind me and I have to swallow down the dope in a pinch, usually buying a bottle of water off one of the homeless people that sell them at most of the exits into the ghetto, for whatever amount of change you are willing to throw them . That way even if I get arrested for some reason I wont be charged with possession and I will have some dope to look forward to within 24 hours once I am in jail. But hopefully none of that will happen today as I make a left back onto central toward the 290 exits. I pull next to an undercover car at the stoplight and do as little as possible to draw attention to the fact that I am white and sitting next to them right now. This is possibly one of the most nerve racking situations you can be in, a mouth full of heroin and the fact that I am entirely the wrong color is a combination that does not fill me with confidence in this moment but luckily the light turns green and he makes a right as I continue going straight toward the exit.
substancecode_heroin
substancecode_opioids
categorycode_retrospective
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