A Way of Life
I believe in the missing cartilage in my best friend, Marco’s nose, I believe in his constant chewing of pacifiers to prevent his teeth from breaking. I believe in the paranoia cocaine instilled in him. I believe in the effect of drugs.
Drugs were never a big thing in our lives, until we reached high school. Cocaine was a big deal; it made you “paranoid as hell” which my friend found intriguing. His first experience doing cocaine was inside a bathroom stall in a dance club in Mexico. I thought it was a onetime thing; I couldn’t be more wrong. Cocaine became his drug of choice.
Ecstatic by the new found energy in cocaine, his hour long basketball games went deep into the night, most of the time just playing by himself. Shoes would be spotless, clothes perfectly ironed, colognes arranged alphabetically, watches by color.
Unfortunately, paranoia also came with the cocaine. Posters of scantily clad women were removed from his walls, along with the childhood action figures standing along the windowsill, no apparent cause really; they would mock him at night. His cocaine fueled nights would usually result in his constant head jerking; looking over his shoulder, pacifier in his mouth to avoid cracking his teeth anymore.
Paranoia was followed by the inevitable weight loss. The 220 pound center for the high school basketball team became the 170 pound man we know now. Even though he still managed to play basketball and at times go to the gym, it was never enough to stop the weight loss.
To supplement his addiction, he met up with a local drug dealer and was offered a job. He managed to cross the U.S.-Mexican border with five kilograms of cocaine concealed in the trunk. He was to drive the drugs to Phoenix; somebody would then drive them to Atlanta, Georgia. It never got to Phoenix.
A few days after he began his trip, a Chevy Silverado parked outside his house, drug dealer inside. He soon stepped out hitting the asphalt with his crocodile boots, bust of Jesus Malverde, patron saint of drug dealing, around his neck glistening and made his way to the front door. Anxiously asking for Marco once there. Dumbfounded by the man standing on her porch, she called police and me. This man, turns out what the owner of the drugs, and once arrested was found to be in possession of a chrome .38 super and a fully loaded AR-15 rifle, among a small quantity of various drugs.
My best friend of eight years had been arrested in Las Cruces, New Mexico. Using approximately half a kilogram of cocaine on the drive to Phoenix, he transcended into a state of paranoia and decided to drive the drugs to Atlanta himself after saying the drop off house looked suspicious.
I believe in the effects of drugs. Families torn apart, people destroyed. I believe in the consequences of drugs.
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