This, oh this day. It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.
This story is one of the strongest indicators that I need to get out of this living situation.
The roommate was really into ketamine. He picked up something he was informed was called ‘rhino K’. I wasn’t aware that there was any variance of the quality potency or source of K at all. As far as I knew, it was a chemical compound that if adulterated in any way, would cease to be ‘K’.
Insistent of me trying this stuff, I having recently made another pact to stop doing all of everything (especially since I didn’t have that much money) drug related, respectfully, or maybe not so respectfully turned down. Respect goes out the window when they start disrespecting your choice to decline.
I kept to my own routine, packing, practicing yoga, teaching yoga. My roommate had called out of work the day after getting that ‘rhino k’. Citing that it was really good, ‘You’ve gotta try this!’. It got pretty odd, I chose to ignore him and did my best not to judge him as much as possible. I remember coming home one day to see my brother was in the front yard, struggling to get his things on the truck for work. He was fumbling, dropping things, stopped and sat in the grass rather dumbfounded for a moment.
I recognized that he did not have a sober ounce of water in his brain, and I took his truck keys. Let him do his thing, get what he could in the truck, and put the rest inside for him. I questioned him rather gently, attempting to understand what had been going on, what he had taken. He was so disoriented, he didn’t even know what day it was. Apparently he had missed an entire day and a half of work for my dad’s company. He was supposed to pick up his girlfriend after she got off work that day, and he was thinking it was the previous day.
It took me about fifteen minutes to get through to him that it was Thursday, not Wednesday.
As soon as I was able to get him to understand the actual day of the week it was, he went MAD. Like RAGING mad- like absolutely bonkers. He took off his pants, went in the back yard, picked up a 17 foot long pvc pipe and started smacking the ground! It would raise up, flop and bend, and smack down, left, right, left – right. This pipe swinging lasted a short while when he got tired. He came inside and took a thin metal curtain rod and started smacking it on a wooden chair. I was sitting across the room witnessing his rage be released and shards of this rod flying all over the place. One shard even flew directly at me which I deflected with my arm, scraping my elbow.
After a few more minutes of yelling and raging, he calmed down and I got him to fall asleep. Soon after his girlfriend at the time was texting me wondering what was going on, and why my brother hadn’t picked her up from work as they had planned days before.
She comes over soon after and me, being the honest yogi I am, “satya”, truthfulness, shared with my brother’s straight edge girlfriend that he was on some kind of drug, and I didn’t know what it was. He’s being an obedient little slave boy, clearly high out of his gourd.
Roommate’s mom calls me, thinks something is wrong (good catch mom), asks to come over, I let her in, we’re all talking, his dad comes over, he’s running through loops. He’s RAGING mad about me taking his bag of powder from him. We engage in this recurring loop of explaining to him what’s going on, and we get from him this rage “GIVE ME BACK MY DRUGS I HAVE TO GO SELL THEM TO SOMEONE ELSE”. This loop goes on until about 12:30 AM. He seems to be coming to, reassure his dad we’ll be ok, and thanks for coming by.
This is where I made my first of two mistakes.
Roommate is insisting that he must wake up my brother and ask him about something. “Please just let me wake him up, I gotta ask him something, I have to ask one thing and then he can go back to sleep please just let me ask him something”
I cave. They start talking. Brother comes to. He starts to realize more and more as he awakens from his slumber and explodes with rage. Holy shit, you let my girlfriend come over, what are you doing, what happened, oh my god, I hate this roommate we have we need to kick him out what the fuck is happening. I can’t stand this etc etc aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
He runs upstairs, opens the door and yells out into the quiet town home strip “DRUGS DRUGS DRUGmfmfmwff” as I cover his mouth for the last one and pull him inside the house. It was very strange, the entire time I’m feeling very calm and centered. Like I’m hearing the anger, yet the full depth of emotion isn’t quite there. Like if he were actually angry, I might wince and flinch. This was the case for both roommate and brother. Or maybe all that fucking torturous hot vinyasa I had been practicing 5+ days a week had really built up my spiritual power.
Not much else happens… Lots of talking yelling back and forth “waaah I hate this drug dealer roommate we have” etc etc. Brother goes to bed. I go upstairs and smoke some pot with roommate, he starts gushing crying his eyes out because he realizes he and my brother had sex and thinks he raped him and cries harder than any human I’ve heard cry before. Still, not phased. The tears are pouring from the eyes of roommates face. The heart in my chest isn’t moving in response. He asks for company until he sleeps, I think I hold him and cuddle with him because he is just an absolute wreck. It’s probably 6-7 AM before I go to sleep.
That afternoon I make mistake #2.
I gave back the back of drugs to roommate. Roommate shares with our actor friend, who never turns down any drug experience, that he found this “rhino K” or something. I look him in the eye, and tell him not to take it, he doesn’t want this thing in his body. He replies I appreciate that, I’m going to do it anyways.
At this moment I wash my hands of the situation, it’s Friday, and I’m off to Spa World for the first time. I choose to remove myself from the environment and get the fuck out of drugs way.
Also, of course neither my brother or roommate remember jack shit from this night so, I’m, really counting on karma to even this one out someday, if ever, or maybe I’m just paying off some debt, who fucking knows…