I wouldn't try drugs until I was 20, working the swing shift at a Baton Rouge Marriott. One crystalline night in December, my co-worker Zane convinced me to come out with him. "Take, eat, this is my body," he intoned as he pushed a tab of ecstasy onto my tongue. Zane was extremely fond of Jesus and raves, and that night, I would come to taste both in the bitter tang of MDMA. The scales fell from my eyes. I was a woman transformed. I was rolling. And drugs were glorious.
The honeymoon phase never lasts long
After that party, I had dozens of instant friends. I did ecstasy at least every weekend and soon added cocaine, marijuana, meth (good old meth!), nitrous oxide, opium, hydrocodone, salvia, mushrooms, and LSD to the list, plus a veritable alphabet soup of research chemicals. I wasn't above huffing video head cleaner. It was all purely recreational, though. I didn't need drugs. I could quit if I wanted to. I just didn't want to.