Praying for Strength

2002 marked some pivotal and disturbing events that led to some major; life changing choices. Getting out of the “party crowd” was starting to seem like an impossibility. Had things not gone different, I would probably still be in it today. By “in it,” I mean; a loner with some druggies, not having hardly any family connections; doing time in the slammer, enjoying the comforts of some burley inmate; or dead, six feet under, and on my way to being forgotten. These were the choices I had. As extreme as everything was getting, I could feel that. We were partying pretty hard all the time. What was once a seemingly good time, filled with conversation, excitement, and shallow reasoning, was now turning into a necessity. The connections among all of us “lost souls” were weakening somehow. Instead of hanging out on weekends, it was turning into an every other day event. Anytime we could get our hands on some type of drug; we did. We would do it anytime, anywhere. My buddies were holding weekend smashes. Every weekend was one huge party. They were sharing a house in midtown, and the basement was perfect for partying. It was wide open inside, led to a patio outside and had three or four back rooms for “private sessions.” Getting into those rooms was where the hard partying occurred, and where I frequented. Weekend after weekend, we would be pretty mind-dead. I remember the partying was so hard that you would feel it all week. Usually feeling better about Tuesday, there was always a little room for partying that night. If it was light partying, Thursday was good. If it was hard, you could rest up for Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Around November of 2001 was when these weekly parties started. And if my memory serves me correctly, it was in November when the trouble started as well. The parties were consisting of anyone from the age of thirty down to about sixteen. This is where the problem lies. Apparently, so many people were going home completely out of their heads that word got out, and it wasn’t too long before the law was to catch up with us. Around six o’clock, we were all hanging out. Me and three buddies were starting to prime and wait for our party favors to arrive. This occurred often as well. The pre-party, party. We would start drinking and getting high long before people showed up for the main event. Waiting for everything to arrive, I realized that our patience with one another was wearing thin. Just being around each other was not enough, and irritability was setting in until we could get our fixes. Around 7:30, I was feeling pretty good. Our “stuff” was to arrive within the hour, and I was partaking of the keg beer. Me and my friend were hanging out in one of the back rooms. Drinking and making small talk, we heard a pounding on the outer door down the hall, leading to the outside. Finally!!! This was often our main connection showing up with our party favors. As we left the bright room and headed down the dark hall, we could hear the music and see the lights from the disco ball whipping throughout the dimly lit party area when: BLAM!!! All at once the lights of the disco ball were overtaken by bright, what had to be flashlights, panning back and forth. My friend whipped around, deep screams were storming throughout the house by thunderous voices from all levels. His shadow in front of me was replaced by another dark, looming figure wearing a helmet. My friend was lifted off the ground and body slammed by one hand from behind. It was like some strong, super hero had overtaken him. All the while, I could tell the shadow was looking at me, arm on my friend’s neck, a submachine gun pointing at me; screaming inaudible words I couldn’t comprehend from my shock and heightened adrenaline. Quickly gathering myself, another figure emerged with lightning speed. I held my hands up and hit the floor voluntarily, stomach slamming the ground; being careful not to spill my cup of beer. A giant boot kicked my glass, splashing beer all over my face and in my eyes. The figure was upon me, and I felt immense pressure on the back of my neck. Realizing it was a boot, I was screamed at to put my hands behind my back. More adrenaline rushed through me. Terrified, my heart was pounding to get out of my chest. Sweat formed on my hands; involuntary shaking accompanied my cooperation. Wrists bound, I looked up at my friend to see the shadow in the hallway standing on him, pointing a gun with a flashlight at his head and realized I looked the same to him. “Holy shit dude! Oh man!” The whispers carried across the floor to me, and I nodded at our present reality, in understanding.