Anyway, she invited me to her friend's house whom I've met before on many occasions for a quick visit. As I entered the house, I stood at the front door waiting to be invited in. Her friend yelled - come on in! ...it's cool. The house was dark. As I entered -- I noticed two people were kneeling on the floor in the center of the living room with a bright orange flame coming from some type of glass container. My first assumption was that they were in there "hitting the pipe".

As I approached I found that they were just trying to light a kerosene lamp. I said to the girl and her friend, "this reminds me of the time when I use to hit the pipe. She arose from the floor and replied with utter amazement, "I never new you were a crack addict -- you don't seem like the type". I then proceeded to tell her my life story of my crack cocaine addiction. She just stood their listening with her mouth hanging open. I finished my long story and left with my friend. As we walked down the block back to her apartment - she replied, that was an amazing story - you need to write a book.

Now here's the deal... I've been telling this story of my addiction to my friend for two years and now that she's hit rock bottom with no way out, she's just starting to listen.

So I got a about 50 bucks together and headed out. However I could only stay for an hour because I ran out of duckets. Between buying gas, paying 10 dollars for admission, paying for a few drinks and tipping the dancers one dollar for a quick bounce on my lap, the cash didn't last long. So I thought, that's cool wait 'til next week -- I'll bring 100 dollars. I should have a good time then. But once again, the cash went quick! So I thought, Next time I'll bring two hun-ned for tips. And now a funny thing happened. I could give a higher tip, buy drinks for the dancers and stay longer. But the cash still ran out about 1:00 am. But by this I was hooked on attending go-go bars. I discovered the more money I had the longer I could afford to stay, also the other dancers would spread the word that a good tipper was in the house and that I would have a choice of the girls I wanted to dance for me. They soon knew me by name and waited in line for me to tip them! As I became more popular with the dancers they began to ask if I could drive them home at closing time. At first I just dropped them off at the end of their block, then in front of their house. As we got to know each other they would ask me to make a quick stop at someone's house before I took them home. Eventually they invited me inside. This is where it all began. The year was 1981.

The first couple of visits I sat in the living room watching TV while various strangers wondered in a out of the house at all times of the early morning hours. They always took a seat in the dining room with six or seven other people. The first thing that I noticed was the heavy smell of sulfur which came from freshly struck matches. I couldn't help wondering why they were striking so many matches every 2 to 3 minutes. So eventually I took a seat in the dining room with everyone else. At first I thought they were smoking some new kind of weed, chronic or hashish, maybe it was a more potent form of marijuana. Next I noticed this strange glass bowl with a thin glass tube in the front topped off with a flat black metal plate or screen about the size of a dime. I asked what is that stuff that they were smoking. They replied "coke". I thought to myself, that's the stuff they were talking about on TV that only rich white kids could afford. But I thought you could only snort it. They replied "naw-man", you cook it with baking soda until it turns to crystal, then drop a small piece or (ROCK) in the pipe and smoke it.

Now up to this point I had only try weed. So I said let me try it. Evidently they all thought that I knew what I was doing until I inhaled it like I was smoking a "joint". They yelled hold up man- you're pulling too hard. I said what do you mean? -- they replied, you have to toke it lightly with a steady pull if you want a good blast. So I tried again but I was so use to smoking weed I couldn't pull that light. So one of the dancers (called "Madam X" who died at the age of 30 from sickle cell anemia) whom I took home a several times pulled me aside, whipped out her own personal pipe, dropped a few crumbs in the bowl and told me to practice. She held the lit match under the front tip of the pipe while I held the glass bowl. Then she said pull steady and light. First she held the match close, then gradually pulled the match away. Then she said jokingly, "now don't blame me if you get hooked". I replied, "what do you mean? I had no idea what she meant. I smoked weed for years and never got hooked - this can't be that bad. Boy was I ever wrong.

Every weekend I couldn't wait to get to the club to see where I'd end up at closing time. And brought more and more money with me each time. Eventually spending about 60,000 dollars over a 10 year period, which isn't that much by today's standards. I lost every credit card, closed every bank account and hit rock bottom, Luckily I still lived at home with my parents. Somehow I was able to keep them in the dark about my addiction. Every week I left the club with a different dancer. They all got high. Pretty soon I was buying enough rock to turn everybody on. Not just to get the dancers high, but to keep the girls from "tricking", to acquire funds to get high. Although, initially I was in it for the sex - I soon discovered that getting a blast was more fun and intense - hey, I'm just keeping it real.

Each person sitting around the table had a different technique and strategy on getting "high". Some drank alcohol first then took a "blast" or a "hit". Others just went straight for the pipe. Each person told me to puff or inhale a different way. Some said "you got to keep the pipe hot" if you want to get a good hit. The more seasoned pros said to heat it until it turns to liquid, then slowly pull the fire away. I began to notice all of the different methods and started to weigh the effects. I found the people who over-heated the pipe or glass tube burned up more crack than they were taking in. Then argued with each other about how they got ripped off from the drug dealer.
Often times I would try to explain to them how the people I met that were smoking for many years, would pull and hold the fire in a different way and from what I've noticed, they seemed to be burning up the screens especially when smoking through a "straight shooter" (a glass tube without the bowl). They quickly replied that I was full of sh*t.

You see the problem with a straight shooter is that it is impossible to see the cloud of smoke or "poof" that you can see in a glass bowl pipe. The bowl allows you to see the smoke as you inhale, which in turn shows you when to slow your constant drag or increase the "pull" or inhalation to get the correct flow of air inside the tube. Using a straight shooter, glass tube and a cigarette lighter is truly a waste on time, money and crack cocaine. You're mainly inhaling propane, air and a minimal amount of coke. You might as well light up a dollar bill and smoke that! So I just let it be and continued to study and analyze all of the different methods. Hey- I figured if I'm going to smoke this stuff, I might as well do it right!

After about 10 years into this I finally began to question why this stuff has had such a strong grip on people and why is it so hard to kick. My best friend killed a guy over a 20.00 vile of crack. (Like crystal-meth, the use of crack cocaine can make you violent by not allowing you to satisfy your immediate craving). To continue the story; my home-boy got into an argument with a 60 year old man. The man came after my boy with a machete. He defended himself by hitting the man in the throat and killed him. He did 5-years for involuntary man slaughter.

I always knew it was something weird and deadly about crack cocaine, because after every weekend when I returned home, all I could do was go straight to bed for 2 to 3 days. I couldn't eat, I couldn't use the bathroom or anything. All I could do was lay there and tremble until my high came down and got out of my system. For ten long years I did this. At that time (1987) you had to cook the powdered Cocaine with baking soda until it became liquid to form crack cocaine (know as "rock"). The dancers would send me out to the local seven eleven or convenient store to pick up boxes of matches and of "Arm and Hammer" baking soda at 3:00am in the morning sometimes.
While at the store I would pick up a cup of coffee and drink it on the way back to the "hit - house". Hey- I had to stay awake and alert while driving -- right?. Now here's the strange part- by the time I returned to the "Hit House", I had sobered up. The combination of time it took to drive to the store, drink a cup of coffee and the cool night air had sobered me up. I had my fill of getting high for that evening. Often times I just ditched to baking soda and matches and just headed home.

This one day I was determined to get that "ultimate blast". The feeling that I had from that first time I ever got a good hit. I wanted that "feeling of euphoria" again and again. I brought over 2,000 dollars with me this one evening. Enough to get everyone including myself "High". By this time I was a seasoned pro... jack! I got a brand new pipe, new screens and a sh*t-load of matches. I spent an hour and a half tearing pairs of matches from the match books and lining them along the edge of the dining room table. I was determined to get that ultimate high or die trying. I sat up for three days straight. No rest, no food, no bathroom. Just me and the pipe.

By the end of the third day, I had smoked so much dope, I couldn't even get high anymore. I would take a hit, go up a minute and come right back down. I began to think the stuff I bought was crap so I bought more from a different drug dealer. Smoked some more. Still went up for a minute and came right back down. I couldn't even get high anymore - I had smoked so much.
That's when it hit me and I realized this stuff only makes you want more. That's all it does. Makes you want more.

There is no maxing out on this stuff and the "come-down" is pure agony! No rehab, group therapy, or concerned friends will teach you this. It is realizing for yourself, that the only way to get off of this stuff is to endure the agony of the withdrawal and NEVER TAKE ANOTHER HIT!...
period.

Hope this helps those of you who are trying to quit.

STOP CHASING THAT GHOST!

P.S.
I quit in 1991 and never took another hit. -- WORD UP!!!!!!