I was still one of the regulars in various bars and nightclubs, and of course my new crowd hung out in those places, too. I was pursuing club DJing at this point. I’d purchased a set of Numark turntables—standard equipment for that field. I’d have said that was my new high, except I already had a new high. The two went well together. You needed energy for hours if you wanted to be the life of the party in these places.
After a couple of months of taking the pills, one of my friends said, “Robby, it’s time for you to take the next step.”
“What next step?”
“It’s called Ecstasy,” he grinned.
“I’m not so sure I want to get into serious stuff like that.”
“You don’t know what you’re missing. I ain’t kidding, man—it’ll change your life forever. First one’s my treat.” Those pills went for about twenty-five bucks apiece. I knew that Ecstasy was always in high demand.
“Maybe another night,” I said. My friend stayed on me, though. He kept telling me I had to try this amazing experience. After I couldn’t put him off any longer, on a Thursday night, and in a weak moment, I told him I’d try a tab. “You won’t be sorry. Tell you what, I’ll split one with you,” he said. “You’ll get a taste.”
I examined the bland, rose-colored half-pill, so small and innocent looking, and placed it on my tongue.
As soon as I swallowed it, my friend let out a whoop of joy. “No turning back now. You better strap yourself in for the ride.”
We sat around my place for a while until it started to kick in. I noticed the effects within fifteen minutes. I was talking more than usual. I felt very open, eager to be transparent. I could talk about anything. We had music playing in the apartment, and it sounded wonderful, incredible. It moved me. I had never felt quite like this before.
“How’s it going, Robby?”
“You weren’t lying,” I said.
“I told you!” He looked at his watch. “Escapades is opening.”
This was a club in Metairie that was only open from 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. I walked through the doors for the first time. The bass from the subwoofers took my breath away as we entered. I immediately noticed yellow glow sticks in the hands of other partyers lining the dance floor. We danced, drank, and stayed until the place was shutting down. Everything at Escapades, every friend, every conversation was amplified. In two hours, I had to be at work—and that felt like it could be fun, too.
That night was the beginning of an all-out dependency on drugs and the life that came with it. The more I used, the more cash I needed to buy. So I expanded my operation. I sold not only pills but an expensive and effective form of marijuana through a connection I had from my network marketing days. I met my clients through selling cars.
I’d carry my zip-locked package in the trunk, make some deliveries at lunchtime, finish my workday, and at night, I was training to be a stockbroker. I left the car business to pursue another career during this period, my parents wanting to steer me in the right direction. I also sold GHB, a liquid high, through another connection I had. There was something for everybody, a drug for every situation. Maybe if my mind had been straight more often, if I hadn’t been either high or thinking about a high, I’d have realized I was on a road that led deep into the wilderness, and if I went far enough, there would be no turning back.
Perhaps my saving grace was that I didn’t like blood and needles. That’s the fastest road to death for a lot of addicts, and I had my second-grade self to thank for my refusal to inject anything. At the age of seven, I came down with walking pneumonia and almost died. My teacher was good enough to come to the hospital and teach me on her own time, so that I wouldn’t fail second grade (once again, my parents behind the scene, working everything out to give me the best life possible). But the whole hospital experience left me with a dread of needles. As an addict, I had many friends who shot something into their veins, and I noticed those were the ones most likely to be goners.
Spoiler alert: God was looking out for me. Like my parents, he was behind the scene, working out the foolish and sinful decisions I was making in a way that would turn out for my good. I couldn’t see it yet, but I would one day.
For a while, I felt on top of the world. Immortal. Unstoppable. Ecstasy has its name for a reason. But artificial ecstasies never last. Eventually, I’d come down and face another work day that was less and less interesting to me. When I wasn’t high, nothing in the world was interesting other than the idea of the next high.
Somebody said that sin takes you farther than you want to go, keeps you longer than you want to stay, and costs you more than you want to pay. Drugs are the perfect expression of that. Who doesn’t want to feel great? Who checks the map to see where the trail eventually leads? Nobody ever starts out thinking, “I have a long-term plan to destroy my life.”
We should come into this world with a warning label: Don’t fall for your false sense of control. “I can do this, and I can pull back when I need to.” Addicts believe they can quit whenever they want, until they actually try to do it.
Eventually I realized I was trapped. I wanted to get out of the trap, but I didn’t know how. My life
