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.