The Time I Accidentally Did Meth
Below is an excerpt from my book — a mostly true story about my days as a strip club bartender in Austin, Texas where I mostly broke shit, drank a ton of booze, sometimes poured drinks, and always hit on my favorite manager.
Once out in the parking lot, I ran into a few girls who worked the day shift. They were all heading over to the neighboring club to hang out and invited me to tag along.
Fuck it, why not?
We all sat in a booth together near the stage and as the night went on, the number of people hanging out with us kept multiplying so we eventually took up three tables near the stage. It was a blast.
When we got decently drunk, we ordered a giant pizza to share. I only ate two slices but in every picture of me that night I’m holding a slice of fucking pizza in my hand. Keepin’ it classy.
“Hey, can I have a slice?” Meth Mouth dropped down next to me holding a giant gift bag. She could tell I was curious about the bag so she whipped out the vibrator that was in it, still in its box.
“Look what one of my regular’s bought me!” She was beaming.
“Nice.” My eyes widened as I nodded.
All night she paraded around the club, showing everyone her new toy. Of course, several men were staring at her all googly-eyed. It’s like they were waiting for her to come up to them and say, “Hey let’s give this thing a go!”
For this reason, I was keeping an eye on her. Sometime around 2:00 AM when she announced to me that the regular who bought her the vibrator offered to give her a ride home, I intervened.
“I don’t live that far,” she insisted as she hopped in my car and buckled up the vibrator next to her. “Thanks for saving me!” she slurred. “I really didn’t want to sleep with that guy but he bought me this nice gift …”
Forty fucking five minutes later, we arrived at her apartment. By this time, it was nearly 3:00 AM and I was well over an hour away from home. So when she offered for me to come upstairs and smoke some weed and take some cocaine for the road, I graciously accepted.
Meth Mouth laid out two lines for us to do as I took a bong rip. She began to roll up a $1 bill to snort the powder.
“Gross, man. Here,” I handed her a $100 bill. “Use this one.” I’d like to think that $100 bills are a little bit more sanitary than $1 bills but in reality, I’m sure it’s all the same.
She snorted the line and then passed the bill to me. I leaned down and snorted the line off her kitchen counter. Immediately, my nose stung and started burning. I’m not talking about the good burn, this shit hurt.
“What the fuck? Who did you get this from?” I wanted to know ’cause my nose was on fucking fire.
“It’s from Neal. It’s some good shit, right?” Meth Mouth was smiling at me.
“Neal?” I’ve never had a panic attack before but if I did, it would be right about now. “Neal?! Fucking tweaker Neal?” I was raising my voice.
“This is meth!” I screamed at Meth Mouth.
“What?” She immediately burst into tears. “No. I’ve been clean!” she wailed.
“Fuck!” I cursed at her before storming out.
When I finally got home, Morgan was still up partying with a few people and I immediately started mopping the floors.
“Dude, are you okay?” she asked me once I had moved on to dusting the railings on the staircase.
“No.” I looked at her and began pacing back and forth as I folded my hands behind my lower back. “I accidentally did meth. I’m just so hyper and so … itchy.” I scratched my elbows and then my forearms and then my neck and entire scalp. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t sit still.” At this point, I was bouncing from side to side and clapping my hands. Morgan and everyone else in the room started cracking up.
“Do you need me to do anything?” she asked.
“Nope. I’m just gonna go with this.” I nodded my head. “Be right back,” I told everyone and I dashed upstairs to change outfits.
Fun fact about me is I have a lot of random ass costumes and I find almost any excuse to wear them. On Thanksgiving, I wore a pilgrim outfit. On numerous occasions, I wore an afro wig. Random day at the pool? I got a turtle shell for that. Let’s not forget about the pope costume that got good use. One time at work, I just decided to show up in a koala bear onesie. Or was it a raccoon?
On this day, my outfit of choice was workout attire complete with the afro wig and a headband. Why? Because in that methed out moment I decided I was Richard fucking Simmons.
When I came back downstairs dressed like that, everyone doubled over in laughter. Until about 10:00 AM, they all watched in awe as I tried my best to follow along with Richard Simmons videos on YouTube.
Looking back, this was probably a terrible idea. Attempting to work out when you’re on meth is not something I would recommend. I mean, I could’ve had a heart attack. Sorry, Mom.
My phone rang and I saw that it was Thomas.
“Hey, what’s up?” I answered, trying my best to not sound out of breath.
“I’m outside. Are you ready, or what? I’ve been texting you for the past ten minutes.”
“Why are you at my house?”
“Very funny, Forest. Come on, we’re gonna be late.” He hung up.
On the way to work, I confessed to Thomas that I hadn’t slept yet because I accidentally did meth.
“How do you accidentally do meth? Who were you with?”
“Meth Mouth.” I cringed.
Thomas shook his head and turned up the volume on his Wu-Tang playlist as he stared straight ahead and safely transported us to work.