THE DOPE ON DRUGS

I've known hash-heads, coke addicts and booze hounds, but somehow
never went that way. I fall asleep after a drink. I'm too cheap to buy
drugs and too weirded out by douchebags who sell them. Plus the
potential eventuality of having to steal and rob to get drugs requires
far more industriousness than I could ever summon up. Also, vanity
deters me. I fear drugs will turn me into a babbling idiot (at least
more than I usually am).

Also, I suspect I was vaccinated against party excess by a babysitter
who brought me along to her Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. Watching a
normal-looking person get up and bare his soul with a speech about
losing a job, family and home tends to have a deep impact on a young
mind.

And yet Montreal is full of couch potatoes rolling doobie after doobie
and overly felicitous teeth-grinding cokeheads trying frantically to
get a word in edgewise.

There's no point in being blind to the problems that arise from the
party. One veteran administrator at Portage rehab centre recently told
me that marijuana is now the top reason young people come to dry out.
Cocaine generally ushers the adults in.

Some are increasingly wondering what drugs do to your brain chemistry,
including Dr. Ashok Malla at the Douglas Hospital. He has the
heartbreaking task of meeting with young people who have recently
learned that they have schizophrenia.

Malla suggests pot drives some young people to madness. "If cannabis
is consumed regularly, especially before the age of 15 or 16, then it
definitely increases the risk significantly for developing a psychotic
illness. It's not that harmless. It has multiple effects on cognition,
on emotion, particularly if you're vulnerable, but there's no way to
predetermine people's vulnerability."

And as for cocaine, many good people are enslaved by the powder. I
recently went to a Cocaine Anonymous meeting to hear the first-hand
accounts of the incredibly tempting allure of the white lines.

About 40 introduced themselves as addicts. At my turn I awkwardly
explained that I wasn't an addict and that I was just trying to get an
education on the issues.

I felt awkward but everybody was outstandingly welcoming. There were
all types there, but everyone showed a friendly face.

Truth be told, I might be a bit of a groupie. I admire these people
the same way others look up to firefighters or soldiers. Most drug
addicts don't go to meetings. These ones have the guts to stand naked,
stripped of their egos and confess their troubles. I almost regretted
having no legitimate reason to be there.

Of course the crescendo of every meeting is the "horror story."
"Concentrate on the feelings, not on the story," one addict reminded
me. But the stories are the grittiest cautionary tales anywhere.

This evening's speech came from a guy who nervously yet painstakingly
recounted his life, which started with alcoholic parents. He'd taunt
police and flee them just for the thrill. He started street fights for
fun. His parents kicked him out, leading him to a succession of cheap
apartments where he'd eat Ramen noodles cooked under hot tap water.
Eventually he ended up living in apartment staircases, sticking a gun
in people's faces to get money for drugs, which he'd consume with the
ever-futile "junkie's prayer." This'll be the last time.

One day he stole a car, took off and returned only to find the cops
were on to his scam. They surrounded his car, leading him to attempt a
daring car chase through the city.

He comically curses a bad road that prevented his escape because he
describes his capture as his step to freedom.

In prison he corresponded with a woman he wanted to impress. She
became his girlfriend and eventually his wife. She encouraged him to
attend meetings. The power of love. He's a regular Joe now.

There might no longer be any undiscovered places to go on this planet,
but there are still people making heroic journeys.