Quandary 5

This is the fifth segment of a fictional short story that starts here.

As a child I would often fall asleep on car rides. I grew well out of that phase by the time I had become a drug dealer, with the exception of a few incidents that occurred as a result of a lack of sleep. There was still something comforting about the open road. There was a rhythm to it that I could get locked into for hours, something soothing that perhaps reminded me of my virtues long since lost. I would drive with no radio, no passenger, and sometimes with no specific destination in mind. Being alone out on the road was calming for me. But not this time.

Once again I found myself locked in a trunk. My head was pounding and I could feel a fresh lump growing on my right temple, accompanied by that old familiar sting of a knockout punch. I knew I would be getting looks from people for a few days. I wasn’t tied up this time but it didn’t really matter, I had no time or reason to try to escape. I thought about what lay ahead for me and the fact that within two weeks there was a good chance that I would be dead.

I had only just formally met King, but my guy whose name I will never mention for reasons I will discuss later had always been good to me. I couldn’t see myself taking from them what they had earned in an illegal, yet authentic fashion. As far as the drug world goes, there aren’t many good people at any level. “The game” as we called it was filled with deception, paranoia, treachery, betrayal, and there were rats at every turn. I considered myself to be one of the good few, and I held my guy and King in the same regard. It was at that moment that I decided that I was going to hatch a little plan of my own. They were giving me time to go about my regular business, and that would be plenty to come up with something. For now, I would keep my eyes and mouth shut and try not to throw up on myself in the trunk of the car.

In just a couple minutes, the car slowed and made a few turns and eventually stopped. I heard the doors open and shut, and I heard the trunk pop. It was completely black outside, I guessed we were in the same alleyway I had been taken from. Dumpy said, “Ok this is your time to shine!” Again, he offered me no help getting out of the tight space, but at least there wasn’t a gun pointed at me. I crawled out and wanted to sprawl out on the concrete but stood instead. “Are we back in the alley?” I asked. Goggles replied, “Yep! This is right where I knocked you down the first time!” Fuck you. Their faces were dimly lit by the indirect light from the trunk. An unnerving glow was cast across one side of their faces, I envisioned them burning alive but they wouldn’t stop smiling even in my fantasy. One of them handed me my belongings and an additional cell phone and Driver said, “We’ll be in touch.” And just like that, they got in the car and slowly pulled away, making sure not to turn on any lights until they were far enough away so I couldn’t read the license plate. I stood there in quiet reflection for a moment, gathered my bearings and wandered down the alley toward my car. It had been a long night and I wanted to curl up in a bed somewhere for a few days but I knew I had a lot to plan and nowhere to call my own.

The only thing I could think of was getting a cheap motel room where I could get high and make some money. Selling out of a motel was dangerous business, but I didn’t care. At this point being arrested would be welcomed, and at the very least, I would have a place to sleep for a while.

I found my car and put my supply in the trunk. I stood over the empty cavity for a moment and wondered what it would be like to be stuck in there. My trunk could hold a few bags of groceries and the special spare tire that was half used and freely moving around when I drove. Everything was covered in dust and various fluids that had leaked out of partial bottles that would never be used. I really wanted to fit all three of my new enemies in there. I had that thought that maybe with the aid of a chainsaw that would be possible.

I closed the trunk and cleared my mind and got in the driver seat and started the engine. I thought about going back to my friend’s house to tell him what had happened, but I wanted more information before I did. So I signaled and pulled slowly away from the curb. When you’re carrying that much meth, you follow every law so you don’t risk being pulled over. I knew too many people in prison as a result of a tail light out, speeding, or failing to signal a turn. Once pulled over, it’s pretty easy for a cop to find probable cause to search the vehicle, I was good at following the road rules.

I drove down Broadway and pulled into the parking lot of a run-down motel. I forgot to look at myself before I walked in and got a long stare from the clerk. I saw my reflection obscured and elongated in the convex mirror above the register and could see blood on my face. I took a risk and asked, “Can I get a room for two nights?” There was a long pause before he replied, “I’ll need a credit card.” Of course he would. I looked through my wallet for show and paused, and stared in astonishment. There was the prepaid credit card Goggles had used to pay for the Google search. I handed it to the guy behind the desk and couldn’t believe it when he said, “OK, sign here and here is your key.” Thanks guys.

I took my key and went to my car to get my things from the trunk. I had been up for four days at this point and desperately needed a nap but there was no time. The hallucinations hadn’t quite come on yet, but my eyelids were heavy and there were split-second blackouts in which my knees would buckle if I stood still for too long. I needed to keep a good amount of meth in me at all times from this point on, and I needed to change my method of ingestion to keep my body and mind from shutting down. I opened up the room and turned on the lights and shut the door. I looked around for something to chop up my dinner and found it as always in the microwave. The glass turntable had served as a chopping tray countless times before, and it would do it again tonight. I opened up my huge bag of meth and pulled out a chunk and put it on the tray.

I pulled out a dollar bill from my wallet and covered the shard as best I could on all sides. I crushed it down first with my finger, then went over it several times with a lighter until it felt flat. I took my credit card and scraped the bill off and fluffed up the pile that was stuck to the tray. I wanted to get it as fluffy as possible so it would act quickly. I rolled up the bill and snorted the whole pile. It burned.

 Meth is a crystal, and no matter how much you break it down, it will remain a crystal until it is dissolved in some way by a liquid. When you chop it up so to speak, you’re turning one shard into a million little jagged pieces of glass. The chemicals inside the drug react quickly with human flesh and immediately cause a terrible burning sensation. That feeling alone was enough to wake me up. It felt like somebody poured Drano down my nose and into my throat, I loved it. And two minutes later, I felt the drug begin to take hold.

Vinnie, Vince, Vincent '98-'15

So much has happened in my life over the past two years. Fortunately for you, I’ve been writing about it and publishing it on the internet for the world to enjoy. Since I will be quite busy cooking for my BBQ tomorrow, I wanted to get this out today. Although I don’t technically have two years sober until tomorrow, I have faith I will make it without a drug or a drink until then.

Two years ago I walked into a courtroom looking exactly like this. In fact, this picture was taken less than 20 minutes after my 50-month sentence was handed down.I had ingested a whole gram of meth just before I walked in to the courthouse, and you can see it in my eyes.

Of course I stole this picture from the world wide web so there are some additions to it but you get the idea, I was a mess.

13 days later I was transported to St Cloud prison where they were able to capture this gem on film, and I was able to track it down for you.

The following pictures are reminders of where my life has been. They are not in any particular order, nor could I possibly remember when or where they are all from. And sadly, these are only about half of the mugshots I have accrued over the past 19 years as a habitual criminal, I'm sure if I spent a little more time I could have tracked them down.  So, here goes...

 This of course is the infamous picture that was all over the news from the meth bust in South Rochester.

 This is a picture of a male model that happens to look like me.

 So, I'm definitely going to grow this hair out and see if maybe I can track this shirt down at a Walgreen's somewhere to recreate this look very soon.

 Uhh. I don't know, man.

 Ditto.

 Fuck me.

 This is my favorite, and was possibly the result of a broken ankle, a fight with a cop, and a little arson charge.

It looks like I was pretty cracked out here, but this is what I looked like in my early teens. 

Then there's this one. It's my other favorite. It was taken on September 6th, 2015 two days before my release from prison. I hope it is the last picture ever taken of me in captivity. There's so much I've been doing and so much I can continue to do to make sure this is where the mugshots stop. 

Tomorrow will mark my two year sobriety anniversary. Some might say that I had an unfair advantage being locked up for the first 15 months, but I don't agree. There were plenty of chances to use or abuse inside, but I chose the road less traveled. I participated in A.A. meetings whenever I could, and I refrained from joining in with the pill-popper trade that goes on inside the walls. I put everything into the six month cognitive behavioral treatment I went through at C.I.P. because I knew that I needed to face this thing head on (Head on, apply directly to the forehead...) if I had any chance of surviving on the outs. 

And here I am.

Jobs Part 5 (The Gift)

My first job in Minnesota as a young man in recovery was for Spencer Gifts. I started selling fart machines for minimum wage, and I was really good at it. So good, in fact, that only a month in they gave me a raise and a promotion. I was a sales supervisor and had the keys to the store, the combination to the safe, and the codes to the computer. I had never had any of those before and I managed to steal so much over the years. But this would be different. I had no compulsions to take what was not mine.

A few more months in, I was asked to take an Assistant Manager position at one of the stores in the Mall of America. It was called Dapy, a sister to Spencer’s. It was known from the beginning that the store was closing but that I would have another store ready to accept me by the time it closed. Little did I know that store would be 86 miles away in the terrible town of Rochester.

I can’t actually blame the town for my expiry. When I moved, I stopped going to meetings, stopped talking to my sponsor, and it was only a matter of time before I picked up a bottle or a pipe.

But all that would take some time, and I’ve written heavily on the subject before, so back to the story. I made the move along with my manager from the other store. I found a small apartment near Soldier’s Field on the Southwest side of town. I had a chair, a bed, a television, and a night stand. And that’s how I lived for a couple months. Work became everything. Our goal was to turn the store around. It had been failing for a number of years due to poor management, and we were going to right the ship.

Shortly after starting, I caught an employee red-handed stealing a fuzzy folding chair. And shortly after that, I realized that theft was a much larger problem when a group of kids walked in, grabbed a bunch of wallets, belts, and lube and walked right out. I knew that our policy was not to confront shoplifters unless all laws regarding theft had been followed. Here are the steps to prosecute a shoplifter: 1. You must observe the person walking in, without the merchandise you suspect them of stealing. 2. You must observe that person take the product from the shelf and conceal it on their person or on their personal property. 3. You cannot lose sight of this person until 4. They exit the store. That’s what you need for a retail shoplifting charge. Well, I knew how cops worked, so as long as I knew that somebody was stealing, all I had to do was say all of those things in the police report.I had a gift for spotting potential thieves. Perhaps because I once had that look in my eyes.

We had a little two-way mirror in the back of the store where I would wait for them. And it happened often. Two or three a day for about a year and a half. I earned a reputation, and toward the end, kids would walk through, see me, and just leave. They knew I would catch them.  With my help, we made the store profitable again. I really enjoyed working for that company, and when they opened up a position in loss prevention in New Jersey, I applied. Unfortunately, it was then that the issue of my criminal record came up. I knew then I would never be able to advance within the company, so I found my job at Kemps.

I often think about how things would be now if I had gotten that job in NJ. But I realize that I never would have had the experiences that I now have. I wouldn’t know the people that I met down in Fillmore County. And I wouldn’t be writing this right now. It’s the combined experience of a lifetime that makes me what I am today. And it’s nice to be able to look back and see that, even if only for a few years, I actually did something positive with my life. Another reminder of the things I do, and the man I am when I am completely sober.