Cocaine

I was alone, but I didn’t feel lonely. Relaxed mostly. Listening to the car horns, and revving of motor engines, the occasional yelling from obnoxious individuals, above all else, it’s the noise that draws me to the city.

I can’t say what time it was exactly, but it was night, and I had fallen into a sort of peaceful meditation while gazing at the tops of neon-lit buildings. Of course, these moments don’t last forever, and it was at the height of this feeling of tranquility that four inebriated Latinos stumbled out of an alleyway.

I remember wanting to get up and leave, but there was this urge in my gut that told me to stay, that told me there wasn’t an immediate threat. I hold a lot of faith in my gut, and it hasn’t wronged me yet, so I listened to it.

The first thing they asked me was if I was alright, and, pleased by the fact they cared, I said I was fine. We all made our introductions, and they asked me
“what brought you here?” So I told them a little story.

The first one I could really get a look at under the dim street lights had his hair in a ponytail, the ends of which brushed his lower back. This one sat next to me, and shook my hand, he could hardly keep his head up, letting it tilt from side to side. He opened an envelope that contained a two-inch stack of twenties and plucked out two bills.

“This is for your troubles,” he extended the money to me.

“I won’t take that from you,” I said. “I won’t, but thank you for the offer.” He persisted, and wouldn’t let up. So I took it.

“OK, thanks.” I took the forty and tucked it into my back-pocket. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all.” He stuck the wad into his sweat shirt. “Yuh see bro’s, this is what I do for my charity; I give money to my friends. Heh heh heh.” They all began laughing uncontrollably, it was clear their substance of choice wasn’t simply alcohol.

The only girl in the group began petting my hair, and through giggles told me, “Yur so cute.” I have no idea what prompted it, but then she began preaching, “you don’t need no mansss.”

“Yes,” I replied. Then she would repeat the phrase again, and I would coo her by saying “thank you,” and “you’re right.”

On any normal day I would have misjudged this group and dodged any sort of confrontation, but we all hung around a while longer. Even when the guy with the funny voice revealed a penny size bag of coke, I didn’t make a b-line for an escape. He scooped up a snub with the tip of a key and snorted, then began passing it around. While they were kind enough to offer me some, I declined, chatting for a while longer until I decided it was best if I left and got some rest.

I often wonder, if the circumstances had been any different, how would this interaction unfold? If they weren’t drunk, would they have treated me with as much kindness as they did? If I hadn’t been in so much emotional turmoil at that point, alone in the city, how would I have treated them? As it may happen, when we limit ourselves based on the people we interact with (be it social status, race, gender, or class), we have essentially put up a barricade to a further understanding of the world we live in. There is so much we could learn from one another, because we have all seen life through a different pair of eyes.

I’m addicted to these unique encounters with other individuals. It’s the I-will-never-see-you-again-but-it-was-nice-we-ran-into-each-other connections that have given me an itch to get out there, and see more.