METH ADDICT'S BRUSH WITH DEATH

He Heard Demons And Flung Himself From His Window, But Was Saved By
Wires

Nick spent the morning of Easter Sunday in his tiny hotel room,
reading the book of Revelation, listening to Christian radio -- and
doing crystal meth.

Thirty-six hours into the binge, apocalyptic visions swirled in his
head. The 31-year-old sensed a biblical exodus under way on the street
below.

Doves and crows flew past his window. Whispered messages delivered a
warning. Demons were coming for the impure.

Nick (he asks that his real name not be used) stripped naked, paced
and sweated, climbed up and down on to the window ledge. A crowd
gathered on the corner of Vancouver's Pender and Abbott streets.

Nick thought about the past five years of his life as a meth addict.
Lost friends and girlfriends. Lost opportunity. It was time, he
thought, to make a leap of faith and take direction from a higher power.

Again, he climbed on to the ledge. The window was flung wide. He
"prayed to God for a little push."

Then the police kicked his door in.

Nick jumped.

"It was just between me and God," he says. "Then reality hit, and I
was dangling on a wire 50 feet off the ground."

His saviour? Coiled overhead wires about two metres beneath his
window.

A week later, Nick was back in his little room, sitting on his single
bed and talking lucidly about life. He's open and sincere, charismatic
and self-deprecating. In a manila envelope on the table next to the
window are the infamous photos of him, naked, arms spread wide, hands
gripping the wire, body bent double.

You can't see his face in the photos, but he's talking to police. The
officers are trying to calm him down and stop him from letting go.
Even then, Nick's meth-addled brain told him the police and fire crews
above and below were evil.

At the hospital, he begged doctors to kill him, believing he faced
torture at the hands of his persecutors. The voices wouldn't stop for
another few hours.

Now, Nick manages a chuckle when he leafs through the images of that
day.

"It's amazing what jumping out of a window will do for you," he says
with a shake of his head. "I have a new lease on life. I feel like
this is my last chance."

And Nick isn't wasting the opportunity.

He hasn't used meth since Easter.

He's in regular contact with a doctor and a counsellor. He's due to
start a rehab program in Maple Ridge later this month. He's also
working closely with Vancouver police.

The department's Odd Squad, responsible for the acclaimed film Through
a Blue Lens, is documenting his road to recovery.

Nick is happy to do all he can. For the first time in a long time, he
feels engaged in something healthy.

"It's 100 per cent, without a doubt, the crystal meth that's ruining
my life," he says.