Was I afraid of this walk home? I can't remember. The important thing is to plow on, you'll feel good whatever you do. I'm so close I can smell my street. A sudden rush of euphoria gives me goose-pimples but I don't get cold. I look over to Dave, who I'd forgotton was talking for a minute. He is waxing lyrical about some female or other he had a brief encounter with on the dance floor. I smile and clench my fists. My palms are sweaty and I fumble for a cigarette. The initial drag makes me gag, a familiar feeling following a night on the tiles.
Suddenly I'm at my doorstep, people milling around. Before I can count them music is playing from my hi-fi and there are no seats left in the living room. There's someone in my room, his face inches from a poster on my wall, transfixed. Sitting on the floor below him, another stranger is preparing an unkown substance for consumption. Now I'm in the kitchen, a group of hard-cases have decided to use the surfaces to make lines. They offer me one and I take it, forgetting to ask what it was. Tastes like coke, but who knows. There's no space to stand or sit to take stock so I aim for the bathroom for want of something to do. There are two guys sitting in the bath, sharing headphones. They look up at me and tell me to go ahead, they wont watch. While I push a thimbleful of pee out of my trembling body I tell them that I have the correct equipment to hook up their ipod to a proper radio. They cannot contain their gratitude as they follow me through the living room and into my bedroom. I am proud of my generosity and I feel like I am leading a glorious mission. The music is thumping so fast there's no time to dance. The guys get on the floor and start break-dancing. The room fills with curious people and I sit next to someone. "Good night?" he he asks and I nod in agreement. A girl sits on the otherside of me and I try to be polite and make conversation. "good night?" I ask pathetically. She looks at me, her eyes wide and mouth moving unnaturally. "Yeah, wicked." I can't think what else to say, and before I know it she's talking to the man to the left of me. The room is now strangely empty. I get up and poke my head in the living room. There seems to have been a general migration back. Dave shouts in greeting and calls me over. Someone hands me a lit object from which I take a draw. Suddenly my face is back at the tabletop, something hits my throat. What was that? "Ketamine" he grins and I look around for a place to sit. "How long?" "about 10 minutes". I decide to concentrate on the music. Various conversations with strangers follow as bright sunlight streams through the window. Faces loom at me from nowhere and I am dancing like MJ. Pats on the back, free cigarettes, doorbells from taxis and a spilt ashtray. Give me my bed. There's people all over it. Another line and it'll all be over. Wow, this music is good.