The Morphine Story

OK -i'll continue my amateur sleuthing next time. Meanwhile....

In an earlier post -i forget which, but I was talking about how super-safe manhattan is- I made an allusion to how I once walked across Manhattan at 4am “high as a kite on morphine”

Due to popular request (well, 2 people have now asked -at least I know i'm not wanking into the void here!) I'll tell the whole story

This is a classic piece of “spencer sketchiness” in that

a) it involves drugs, and

b) it involves me being a total idiot

it could have come right out of the 2000-2001 sketchyspencer scrapbook!

So without further ado, here it is: The Morphine Story

OK.

Before I got my job at Jazz, in order to save money, I lived at a hostel in brooklyn for a little while.

There, I befriended an American guy

(I normally only use real names in this blog, but because there is a certain amount of illegality involved, and I wouldn't want him to get in trouble, no matter how unlikely, let's call him... “Ira”¹)

Ira's an interesting dude -he's ex-army; has served in iraq

Not during the invasion, but he did a tour as part of the occupation

He was in the artillery, ha ha

Y'know those big missle launcher things you saw on the news during the invasion that fire salvo after salvo of rockets?

He operated one of those bad boys

But there's not exactly much use for those in a counter-insurgency conflict, is there?

(we had many, many conversations about the idiocy of the US high command -and Donald Rumsfeld and the so-called “Commander-in-Chief” in particular)

So Ira wasn't exactly called on to do much in his stint in iraq

He and his buddies spent most of the time on a base in the middle of the desert bored out of their minds

One of the things they used to do to kill the time was raid the pharmacy on the base for codeine, gobble down the pills and watch DVDs in a kind of doped up daze

Ira waxed lyrical about how good this was, and one night when we'd been drinking (I think we'd had some blow too) I agreed to do this with him

I thought no more of it, but a few days later Ira calls me up² and says his cousin (a drug dealer in queens) has sorted him out with some morphine pills -do I still want to do the movie thing?

Now I had some reservations about doing this

But I didn't want to seem like a pussy either

So that friday night we arrange to go see a film

We go to a theater off times square

We were going to see Saw IV, but it had sold out

So we got tickets to see Blade Runner: The Final Cut instead (a suitably “visual” movie)

Now Ira had no idea how strong these pills were

So we agreed to do quarters -he goes to the restroom to do his quarter; I go to the restroom to do mine

Then we settle down to watch the movie

Pretty soon, almost as soon as the trailers are done, Ira tells me he's feeling pretty spaced

I don't really feel anything

Just a bit of a tingle, could be “drugs anticipation”³

Halfway through the movie, Ira leans over and tells me he's fucked

I'm still not getting anything!

So I ask him if I can have some more

He asks me if i'm sure; I tell him I'm sure and he hands me the baggie and I go to the restroom

There, I give myself a generous quarter -more like a third

By the time the movie is reaching it's climax (“I've seen things you people wouldn't believe...”) I was feeling pretty good

How has my life come to this? (I was thinking) I'm sitting in a cinema in New York City, off times square no less, with an Iraq war veteran, high on morphine

How utterly, utterly absurd

When the lights come up, Ira doesn't look so good

His eyes are kind of puffy

Me, I'm feeling great

We go for a drink in Greenwich Village

On the subway, Ira looks worse

I ask if he's OK -he says he's feeling nauseous

His head keeps going down

I wonder -in a detached kind of way⁴- what i'll do if he collapses on the subway. There's no way I can carry him; he's twice my weight at least. Authorities would have to be called. And Ira still has the bag of pills about his person somewhere

ah ha ha

But we manage to get off the subway without Ira puking or fainting, and i get him sat in a bus shelter while i buy some water from a drugstore.

It's well past midnight by now.

And I'm feeling like a bit of a bigshot.

I took twice his dose, and he's twice my size! I can take my drugs! I'm hardcore!

MAN-CHEST-TORRRRRR!

After i give Ira some water he feels better.

Then i take him to a mcdonalds and after he's had a burger he feels better still. He's OK.

And it's then, as he's finishing off his burger, that i learn something important about the pills we've taken.

I hadn't been listening to Ira properly when he told me how you're supposed to do them.

They're slow-release morphine pills.

In order to get the proper hit you have to chew them up in your mouth.

I hadn't done that; i'd taken mine like, well, pills.⁵

Ah ha ha ha

But what the hell, i thought. I'm good!

So we go for a beer and then decide to call it a night.

Ira has to work the next day, i'm supposed to be seeing somebody about a job.⁶

As we part at the subway, I realize I'm starting to feel rather “floaty”

(Looking back, this was probably the second dose starting to take effect)
The next couple of hours are pretty hazy.

Basically, i was out of it. I mean, totally fucked.

I got lost on the subway!

(A proper “lost-it”, as sarahfriend says)

At the weekends they do maintenance work on the subway, and loads of services don't run or don't stop at certain stations.

It's hard enough to work out sober.

Fucked up, it was a nightmare!

I was riding the subway all over the city.

At one point i thought i was gonna seriously freak out.

The walls were closing in man!

And it was hot as hell down there too.

Somewhere in there, I end up at columbus circle.

It's nowhere near my hostel, but i'm confident i could find my way back from there: all i have to do is keep central park to my right. It's a 50 block journey.

So i start walking.

Walking-cum-floating.

At 4am.

In the light New York rain.
(If this was an Irvine Welsh story something horrible would have happened to me on the way home. But i float through this life like a carefree angel on a cloud, remember, and nothing happened)

Also Manhattan, as i've said numerous times, is the safest place I've ever lived.

It took me a couple of days to get over the pills.

I got the nausea Ira had, and bad.

But on the Sunday I slept all day in Central Park.

It was a beautiful sunny day. The sun felt so good on my skin!I had the most amazing dreams, and every time i opened my eyes I was surrounded by shimmering green grass and reassuring sounds; birdsong, children playing, laughing.

It was how you imagine heaven must be like

(Gave me an insight into the lure of opiates, I can tell you).

Anyhow, that's the story of how I came to be walking across manhattan at 4 in the morning high as kite on morphine.

S-K-E-T-C-H-Y

(well, this is the NY Sketch, after all)

Believe it or not those are the only narcotics i've ingested since i've been over here.

However, a guy has just moved into the hostel who puts on raves in New York

The kind of drugs he can get hold of would make your hair stand on end (or salivate like a hungry dog, depending on your preference)

But I don't do that stuff anymore, do I?

Or do I...?

;-)

1As well as being a good “American” name, those in the know (and lateral thinkers) will be able to work out his real name from this.

2I'd moved back to manhattan by this point. The brooklyn hostel sucked; zero atmosphere.

3Anyone who's ever done pills/acid will know exactly what I mean by this.

4That'll be the morphine then.

5I know this now sounds like something Irvine Welsh would write, and that I am a so-called writer of fictions, but this is 100% truth. I swear it by all that is sacred to me!

6My little cafe bar job at Jazz!

Real Life Colombo (pt 1)

The Story So Far....

Dan has been robbed -by one of his colleagues as he slept. Only an hater of dan would do such a thing, and there is an obvious candidate: Darryl, the boyfriend (or whatever) of one of the girls he was sharing a bed with the night before. Dan's put the word out that he'll get the police involved unless the money's returned, pronto, and that the circumstantial evidence doesn't look good for Darryl.

Darryl gets wind of this and, furious, goes over to confront Dan, forcing Dan to cut short a call to the UK....

O to the M to the G!¹

What could possibly happen next? Read on....

So I'm sat there on the floor, and Darryl is standing over me

LOOMING over me

And I look up into his eyes

RIGHT into his eyes²

And I see the look of a man who has been accused of something he didn't do

I've seen that look a few times; sometimes on my own face in the mirror

The pupils are dilated, the gaze is fixed and steady

I knew instantly he didn't do it

And that, dear reader, was the whole point of the exercise

I was never going to call the police

I'm not an idiot -i know the police are going to have scant regard for a crime that has no witnesses and no recoverable evidence (money being the most disposable commodity in the world)

And even if they did somehow pursue it -would I really want to put everyone at the hostel though the tedium of giving statements, testimony etc

For $200?

Please

No, I just needed to be sure it wasn't darryl

I was 80-90% sure -but I didn't know him all that well

I get to know people through either smoking or drinking (or both)

Darryl does neither

He's a laconic character too

But we were slowly developing a friendship -i'd give him free food at the cafe bar when he was skint; we'd talk about (american) football, that sort of thing

So I really hoped it wasn't him -in fact, I was almost certain it wasn't

But I had to be sure

So I had to make him think I was going to shop him

And the only way to do that was to go through shannon, make HER believe I was going to shop him

I had to force the confrontation

And it wasn't him

The only problem is, I've kind of overplayed my hand

I've been a bit TOO convincing

Darryl looks ready to kill me

Hmm

It's a bit of a sticky situation, to say the least....

So what I do first is get (slowly) to my feet

Then I tell darryl I'm not going to call the cops on him

That it was never my intention to call the cops ON HIM, just call the cops

He tells me that's what shannon told him

I told him shannon had got the wrong end of the stick³

(all the while i'm talking to him i'm, slowly making my way over to the cafe bar)

He produces his cell phone and asks me to explain the text message that shannon's sent him

(the gist of which is that i'm calling the cops on him; she thought she knew him but now she doesn't etc)

All I can do is reiterate that i'm NOT calling the cops on him

He asks me to explain the text message

All I can say is “I didn't write it, shannon did”

By now we are in the cafe bar

My friends are there, including coco⁴, and I feel safer right away

But as i'm talking to darryl, I walk around the cafe bar counter, so there is an obstacle between us

(for psychological reasons rather than defensive ones)

by this time shannon is on the scene

and harold, davey and a bunch of other people

It all gets quite heated -a lot of people have had very little sleep, everyone has a different version of what's going on

I start to lose it because no one is letting me finish my sentences

Eventually harold says we have to take it outside because it looks bad in front of the guests

So we do, but shannon insists darryl stays inside with her (darryl is anyway working)

Me, coco, davey, harold, steve and a couple of other guys stand in front of the hostel, smoking and discussing further

I can see darryl at the front desk, the window is open -he's listening to us

so I say loudly, several times, for his benefit, how I was never calling the police ON HIM; I'm calling the police because i've been robbed and i'm not going to let it go -i'm not going to let someone fuck with me and get away with it⁵

Eventually steve says the first sensible thing anyone's said to me all day: “dude, you've had no sleep, you're emotional. It's chris's last night⁶ -go out enjoy yourself, forget about all this for tonight.”

He's right

I go have a shower, freshen up, get changed.

But there's something I have to do before going downtown

I find darryl and shannon outside the the staff basement; they've been arguing

I ask them to take a walk around the block with me

I explain to them both that I was never going to call the police, that I just needed to be sure it wasn't darryl, to convince darryl that I was going to do it, I had to convince shannon etc

I apologise to them for the mind games -but they were a necessary evil

The conversation ends on a friendly note -me and darryl shake hands⁷

Shannon says the second sensible thing i've heard all day: “let's talk about this more tomorrow -when we've all had some sleep!”

But before they go, I ask them not to tell anybody that calling the police was a bluff

Because if darryl didn't do it, I still need to smoke out the person who did

The police threat had two objectives (three actually⁸): the first was to clear darryl as a suspect

The second was to mindgame the real culprit

Anyone who steals from someone as they sleep -someone incapacitated by drink- is a coward

And cowards, by their nature, get nervous

So I had to kick up as big a fuss as I could, shout about calling the police, lose my shit basically

All the time when darryl was confronting me, and everyone was sticking their oar in, I had one eye keeping a look out for anyone acting weird, nervous, flighty

Guilty, in other words

And one person stuck out like a sore thumb

Who was this person?

Find out next time!

TO BE CONTINUED....

1I've been bitten by a black dog; black man wants to kick my ass -it's naked prejudice I tells ya!

2A very difficult thing to do. It's hard to look someone right in the eye at the best of times, let alone when they are about to kick your skinny little ass.

3This is a white lie. While I might have never explicitly said I was going to call the cops “on” darryl, this is what I led Shannon to believe, by implication. But given the circumstances, who's counting white lies?

4Coco is my brother. He says that to me all the time, that I am his “big brother”. (And rachel is his “little sister”). That's serious shit in african culture. He's told me many times that if anyone tries to fuck with me (or Rachel) he will fuck them up. He means it too.

5Even though I knew I was never going to call the police, it was still important that everyone thought I was going to, for reasons that will become clear.

6The first of many “last nights”. The douchebag's still here tho!

7There's a nice (and amusing) coda to this part of the story. Darryl and I are friends now. You can't go through an experience like that with someone without learning their measure. I found out darryl is a christian, a good christian, sticks to his principles (for example, he LOVES texas hold em -he's a texan- but doesn't ever play in our poker night because it's against his beliefs to gamble), studies his bible. I also found out that he is ex-special forces. Ex-Homeland Security (he showed me his old ID!) He's black belt in two different martial arts; as well as the hostel job he's an instructor at one of the top martial arts schools in the country.

So if push HAD come to shove, he could've crippled me with his little finger... nail. Ah ha ha ha ha ha.

8The third objective was to send out a message to staff that if you fuck with my stuff I will kick up a shitstorm. I thought this would be enough to make people think twice. Wrong: after my trip to england in the new year, I came back to the hostel and found all my dogwalking gear had disappeared! Old shitty clothes, true, but still....

A Day In The Life Of A New York Dogwalker

I had a funny afternoon dogwalking last week

In fact I was moved to write a blow-by-blow account of what happened for the owner of the dog i was walking, and for kathi

by the time i was done, and i'd read it back to myself, i thought -hmm looks and reads like a blog post (without my terrible potty-mouth). Might as well blog it!

If you are not interested in dogs and doggie matters (or what i do for a living in NY), you might want to skip this post

But on the other hand -there is a car crash... and somebody gets bit by a great dane!

Here are some picture of the hounds in question: Lucy and Obi

Sooooo cute! They are good doggies! Oh yes they are! Oh yesyesyesyes!

(but not every day; below is the text of the email i sent)

Ok this is a bit of a, ha ha, shaggy dog story

-are we sitting comfortably? Then we'll begin.

(i'll write in the present tense, if you don't mind, I find it easier)

OK, so after I pick up Lucy I get to obi's place about 12.30

Obi does not come greet

uh-oh, I think

but he has made no messes, just lying on his bed in the bedroom looking sorry for himself

I try to get him enthused -no dice

so I have to leash him up with him lying down

I even have to lift his chin up!

But once we're out on the street he's fine

So I make the call to take him to the dog run

But maybe it is a little soon for the dog run since his illness

He lifts his leg 2 or 3 times once we're in the dog run

At one point he sits down -so I think, ok, just ten mins today

but it ends sooner than that

Obi has a stick

And a boston terrier (whose name is fred, it turns out) wants the stick

So Obi has a go at Fred -growling/snarling

(they had not been introduced, and it wouldn't have happened if they had, but still -no excuses)

Luckily I am right there, so I get Obi by the collar, tell him “NO”, pull him away

But the problem is, the terrier is so small, and obi is so big

Fred just sidles around like a crab so he's always facing obi, barking/snarling

so crucially, I can't break eye contact between them

After a few seconds of this, obi reaches breaking point

He LUNGES

But I could sense him about to do it, and I'd kept a little of my (not great!) strength in reserve

(and i'm quicker than that big lunk too)

I PULL him back, and at the same time plant my leg in the way

The upshot of which is obi bites me on the thigh

(i'd just like to reiterate, obi was not going for me, his target was fred; and he has done me no damage, just obi-spit on my pants, and I think i'll have some obi-tooth shaped bruises on my leg)

But this is now TOTALLY UNACCEPTABLE

and STILL no one has dealt with fred, who's STILL getting in obi's face!

so I yell “HEY, WHOSE DOG IS THIS?”

So finally the guy comes over and we can break it up

I'm not happy with obi, obviously

We walk away and I grab his leash from where I left it

Tell him it's over for today

I have difficulty getting him to sit too -but I do and I get the leash on

Then I tell him off -and it's like kathi's voice is coming out of my mouth!

“OBI -NO! NEVER DO THAT, NEVER! THAT IS NOT ACCEPTABLE! NOT EVER!”

He gets the message

I tie him to the bench, and seek out the owner of fred

I apologise for obi's behaviour, tell him that obi can get possessive, but he's a puppy, and he's normally very placid

And you know what this guy says to me?

“Yeah I don't think I've ever seen a great dane so cranky”

What an asshole!

I walked away from that, collected lucy

but here's what I wanted to say:

“Hey, it was YOUR dog that started on MY dog, remember?

YOUR dog tried to steal obi's stick

and YOU didn't rush over here to help ME break it up

so now MY dog looks like the monster to the rest of the dog run

thanks a bunch, buddy”

So I'm still fuming about that as I walk the dogs back

(meantime I am giving obi the cold shoulder for his disgraceful behavior -it is also now that he finally takes a dump: which was small and perfectly formed! And the only good thing he's done today)

But then something nice happens

a guy riding his bike pulls up, asks if I mind if he pets obi

(obi doesn't deserve it, but I say OK)

Turns out he is the owner of the infamous Oreo!

(Oreo is another black great dane, female, and every time I walk obi in central park at least one person asks if he is oreo. I tell obi: “hey big guy, I hate to break your heart but your celebrity status is diminished -you're not the only black great dane in town!”)

so we chat for a while, which is good because I get to vent about the prick in the dog run

I also offer mine and kathi's services -but I don't have a card! damn!

But he tells me to look him up

His name is Ben Herman, and he lives on W94

Seems like a very nice man, obviously LOVES great danes

He was unsure whether he needed dogwalking, but he was very keen that we should set obi and oreo up on a “date” (but a date that leads nowhere, seeing as how they have both been “fixed”) in the dog run

I am keen too -it is not often obi has the chance to play with someone his size

So maybe we could all (me, kathi, chris, alison, ben, his wife) do that, one weekend?

that'd be nice -and they'd be some great photo ops too!

I told him I (or kathi) would give him a call, and he bikes off

So that was pleasant after the unpleasantness

The dogs and I set off again

And obi is being a pain in the butt!

Slams the brakes on; tries to grab lucy's leash

(I know why he's doing it -he doesn't understand why I, who is usually at his beck and call, am ignoring him)

Well, as we all know, we do not give attention to children who seek it by being bad

The only attention I give him are corrections

We get back to obi's place

And he is a good boy and sits without being asked to for the end-of-walk routine

So I get the leash off him, hang it up

I am just about to make my peace with him -which was my plan all along- but when my back was turned, he starts on lucy!

Not seriously, just a butt with his big old head

(I think this is jealously because I wasn't giving the Lucy the silent treatment -and why should I? She has been an EXTREMELY good dog today, unlike certain great dane puppies I could mention)

So that is the final straw

I take him by the collar and put him in his crate -as well as punishment i didn't trust him not to destroy something today, he's in such a funny mood

(But here is my theory about his recent behavior -he is now a teenager! I was a nightmare when I was a teenager too

I don't think I ever bit anybody though)

Before lucy and I leave, I make up with him though the bars of the crate

so no hard feelings

but I tell him I expect to see a reformed dog for the morning walk tomorrow!

(He just need to get over his thing with “possessions” -maybe I should take him to Strawberry Fields tomorrow, play him Imagine.... My headphones are obi sized too, ha ha)

But wait -that is not the end of the story! (what, there's more??)

When lucy and I get outside we 'bump' into a lady walking her dog who lives in the building

I'm not sure what the breed is, some kind of fluffy terrier I think

(my sister got me some puppy top trump cards for christmas this year -i am going to use them to “bone up” [no pun intended, honest. Well, maybe a little bit] on the breeds)

anyway lucy's tail is wagging so I let them say hello to each other

and they do so in the most adorable manner you can imagine

the lady actually says “Oh, isn't that adorable!”

Then she says, “Oh I think I know this one, I've seen your boss walking her. And I have to say, I think she's a little heavy handed.”

ho-ho!

oh dear oh dear

boy, did she pick the wrong person to say THAT to

especially since I'm still “juiced” from my tussle with the big guy

So this is what I say -in a very calm, sweet-as-you-like manner:

“Hey, if it wasn't for kathi and her “heavy handedness” you and I would not be having this conversation, and the dogs would not be having THEIR conversation because Lucy would be going ballistic at your dog. Last year, before kathi got her hands on her, she was a terror, crazy. You couldn't take her down the street without a battle. Now look-”

And, right on cue, lucy looks up at us and wags her tail as if to say “look what I happy dog I am!”

Good on you, lucy!

So then this lady-who-knows-better says: “Well, there are ways other than-”

I cut her off: “We'll have to agree to disagree. Kathi's way is the best way, i've seen the results. C'mon luce.”

And with that we trot off into the sunset (metaphorically).

The moral of the story: Don't hate on kathi if i'm in earshot!

Now that was going to be the end of the story, but there is an epilogue that will have you cheering inside

After I drop off lucy, I walk to the 96^th st/central park west subway to go home

Just as I get there, a car doing 50 or 60mph down central park west jumps the red light and SLAMS right into the side of a car pulling out of 96

there are maybe 25 people milling around the subway entrance who all saw it happen

both drivers get out of their cars unscathed

but guess who else was there to see it -the NYPD!

me and a couple of other people were like, “that guy is soooooooo busted!”

people who speed down central park west I have a personal hatred for

it's one of my nightmares that one day i'll be crossing the street to get to the park and one of these jokers will jump a light and hit one of the dogs

Well that's one less idiot to worry about!

ha ha

(and it's nice to see someone get arrested who deserves it, for a change)

Sorry for the EXTREMELY long mail -but what a crazy afternoon!

now for a lie down....

Dan