Confessions Of A Meth Dealer

April 9, 2014 | 3 Comments » | Topics: Story

I was addicted to meth for a few years (well, I’ll forever be addicted to it; I have absolutely no control when it comes to amphetamines). It started out wonderfully (like any drug) and was even responsible for getting me a couple great paying day jobs (gotta love the motivation meth provides; if you can harness it) and even a promotion! Eventually my usage increased to the point that I felt I should offset my costs so I started dealing too.

My girl at the time was a waitress so I used her and a couple of her hotter waitress friends to sell my product to both customers as well as most of the other staff (turns out the food industry is LOADED with users, DUH!). After a few months, the demand began to get so high I was having trouble keeping up with it. My regular hookup flat-out admitted that He would not be able to keep up with my demand (He had a regular job too and this was nothing more than fun for him) so He pointed me to another guy who He thought might be of some assistance. That is when shit began to get real serious. I quit my day job as I no longer wanted to go (or even needed to).

Things continued to go very well as I continued to expand my business of using waitresses to sell product (high turnover means waitresses are constantly changing locations, thus getting a new customer base). It worked out beautifully as we were effectively a delivery service. Nobody was ever coming to my house so there never appeared to be any suspicious activity. Practically a perfect system.

At this point my usage had been pretty heavy for a while (I was up to 10g a day on average, or about $750) and it had begun to take it’s toll. I was only sleeping a couple of hours a week (more like taking fitful naps) and that was catching up (I had been doing it for over 2 years now). I was angry and psychotic pretty much all the time. It was destroying relationships and I truly did not give a single fuck. I began to see that my inability to control it was destroying everything around me. Being in the throws of addiction is…. a complex thing. I was fully aware that I was an addict, that it was taking it’s toll and would almost certainly eventually kill me. I did not care. I mean I really, truly did not care. Total apathy. All that matters is the drug; if you can get that, then everything else is less important or can be fixed after..

The final straw for me was when my friend (let’s call him Dave) and I, went to go make an extremely large purchase from a “different guy” who Dave claimed He knew from when He was in prison in Arizona (Dave spent a few years in that shitty Tent City Jail)[1] . Meeting new people is always sketchy, but add to that the fact that this is a meth deal & that in all likelihood everyone involved in the deal is ON meth and you have a loaded power-keg ready to blow at the slightest provocation.

We were told to meet the guy at the airport and that we could just drive up to his plane on the tarmac (this was before 9/11, when you could do shit like this at smaller airports). He even gave us the N number of his plane (FAA license plates basically) so we could go right to it; parking our car 20 or so feet away from the plane.

Well “Dave” and I get our cash together (we had a pooled almost $200,000 between us), tucked our guns into our belts (it’s important that the other party can see you are armed) and walk up to the plane, nuts tingling like they’re hooked up to a car battery. We see a guy pop his head out of the cabin and motion for us to enter with his firearm.

We enter the cabin and see two guys sitting in chairs, facing each other talking with a simple brown grocery bag between them, & two other guys at either end of the cabin, hunched over (one could not stand up in a plane that small) clearly brandishing firearms.

A strange thing happens in your mind when you know that there is a ton of product and money and you mightstand a chance of getting it all. All of it. Even if the chances are 1%, the payoff is worth it. The money you KNOW they have & the product you’re there to purchase all could be yours. All you have to do is kill a few people and be lucky. Time slows down as you ponder the situation and eye-fuck everyone in the room. Unfortunately, you should know they are thinking the very same thing at the very same moment and we’re outnumbered 2 to 1. Again, we’d have to be lucky….

Well, we traded the cash out for the large paper grocery sack filled with meth while Dave made a little small chat with his former “celly”. The whole time everyone eye-fucking everyone else and occasionally stroking a firearm. The entire ordeal took about 4 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Dave and I got back into the car and drove off, the transaction complete. I was silent the entire trip back, pondering what I had just gone through.

It was one of the most profound experiences of my entire life. I can’t stress this enough. I had just seen and spoken with the monster that was inside me. I knew what I was capable of in a most uncomfortable way but it was more than that. During the entire ordeal I wanted him to get out. I wanted to kill everyone and take all the shit. I wanted to set the plane on fire after I was done and revel in the violence. I wanted to give in completely. That is what caused me the most concern. We all have that monster in us, make no mistake. Most are fortunate to only have to listen to it’s whispers; I had a philosophical discussion with mine.

It was then I realized I had only two choices; dive into the game with both feet and almost certainly die (could be the drugs, but probably a situation that gets me killed), or run and never look back.

I was afforded the opportunity (later that month) to get the hell out when I was arrested for a completely unrelated matter. It was very cathartic experience; I spent my months in jail quietly. I did not want anyone to know my plans. I did not tell anyone I was in jail (good excuse, right?) including my girlfriend or Dave. I never took visitors, made phone calls and generally kept to myself. When I got out of jail I didn’t even call anyone to let them know. I took a bus to where my car was parked (old apartment building) got into it and left. It wasn’t 12 hours after I got out of jail that I was in a different state. To this day I have not spoken to anyone out there. As far as they know, I died.

Man, I haven’t thought about this in a while. Kinda rough to recall.