any time you pick up someone at a hospital you’re rolling the dice. they could have a walker, crutches, a sobbing family member… all sorts of obstacles for a smooth trip. they could also puke. my archenemy.
sometimes they’re dopey from the meds and they have no idea where they are so they place the pin in the wrong place which makes it hard for me to find them.
hospitals are very clear about where we enter, not so clear about where to pick up.
7:55am and this woman was nowhere near her pin. called her phone and it went straight to voicemail. usually that is enough for me to cancel because it’s a major red flag because YOU LITERALLY HAD TO USE YOUR PHONE TO ORDER ME so wheres your phone now?
but i was in need of a bunch of trips for my bonus, so i persisted.
she texted me. i texted back. she wasn’t annoying. we figured it out.
when she got in she didn’t look so hot. scruffy, tired, discombobulated. she had seen better days.
same, honestly.
i tried to call you but nothing happened, i told her and headed towards a ritzy address.
she laughed and said it was an old phone number.
from when you were on the run, with all that blow you stole? i joked.
cocaine jokes always do well with strangers.
no. ha. no. mine was meth, she said.
was that a southern drawl, I thought? she pronounced it may-eth.
zero traffic as we journeyed past perfect homes with tailored grounds. she was missing a few teeth, smiling, looking out the window.
whose house was she gonna rob? i wondered, shamefully. projecting.
because i wasn’t sure if she was joking about the meth, i told a tale about a time in college when i needed to read 150 pages of Moby Dick for class by the morning and I was nodding off and my roommate offered me some speed to stay awake.
because i wanted to relate to the woman, i lied and told her it was meth. but in actuality, who the hell knows what it was.
illustration by Gerard Dubois
how did you like it? she asked.
it made me feel normal, i said. i wasn’t tired any more. i wasn’t high in any way. i just suddenly felt perfectly adjusted. my only problem was that i couldn’t stop obsessing about how suddenly normal i felt. that circular thinking stopped me from being able to read.
she said, i was just in cedars for a sleep study. you probably have ADHD. they had hooked me up to wires all over my body and head and arms and legs and chest and neck and… she had a very long list.
and then i went to sleep and they watched and documented everything.
why were you getting sleep study of all things? i asked.
because i did meth every day for two years and it screws with your sleep after a while, she said fiddling with her lime green vape that looked like a coin purse.
she rolled down the window. it was warming up already. la is the best.
turned out we were going to her sober living house.
when did you sober up? i asked.
well, i had been sober for two months but then last week this guy kept saying he wanted me to party with him, she laughed.
she was ok looking. i tried to picture how she was just out in the world and some random dude, a stranger danger waltzed up to her and invited her to do the hardest drugs he had.
i told her, i have lived a million years and no one has ever asked me to do meth with them, especially a stranger.
men want the pussy, she cackled.
did you give it to him?
no, but I gave it to the other guy who joined us. he had some meth too and I went home with him. then she laughed louder, air whistling through one of her former tooth holes.
was it any good?
three pumps and he rolled over, she said.
no, the meth! i laughed!
and she said it was all worth it.