Citation: D. "Club Speed: An Experience with Methamphetamine (exp638)". Erowid.org. Jul 16, 2000. erowid.org/exp/638
I am a 21-year old student and substance abuser. Alcohol, marijuana and cocaine are the drugs I have used most, but crystal meth is my favorite drug even though I have only done it twice. Scary, huh?
Anyway, the second time I used it is the more memorable of the two. I had taken a semester off of school to get my shit together and had traveled to San Francisco with a friend. One night the two of us were in a cab, drunk, and the cabbie mentioned speed. I, of course, immediately jumped at the opportunity to get some, and before we knew it we were sitting in a parked cab in industrial S. San Francisco waiting for the cabbie to return with crystal. He did, and he also gave us a bump of 'glass'--a name for street speed that is allegedly purer than crystal (it also burns worse). And of course it took us up nicely and got us in the mood to dance, but it wasn't until later, when I snorted a giant line in the bathroom, that I really began to fly.
That club closed and we found ourselves traveling to a monthly club event that does not end until 7am. There I danced wickedly for four hours or more. I have never danced like that before and do not expect to again unless I get more crystal meth. I danced until my legs were ready to give out under me. I danced until I had to run to the bathroom and throw up. Then I came back and danced more. It was not a happy, grinning kind of high but rather an intense, straight-faced, hair-plastered-with-sweat high that gets you jabbering idiotically and went perfectly with the wicked jungle a local DJ was spinning.
When the club finally closed I came outside and suddenly, deprived of lights and music and humidity, realized I was crashing and out of crystal. I remember walking in circles around my friend and some other kid to whom we'd given some because if I stopped I would immediately become overwhelmed with the crash. For me it was worse than a cocaine crash and not nearly as easy as a dextro-amphetamine crash. For me, the crash made living painful. I would stare into the distance and go, 'Oooooohh. Fuck. I'm crashing horribly.' I was almost frantic. We walked three miles back to our room in the rain because we were still tweaked. I could not sleep because every time I started to drift off I was crippled by horrible spasms in my calves. I finally got an hour or two of sleep by wedging my feet against the wall so they wouldn't spasm. My pupils stayed dilated long after the drug seemed to have worn off. We were finally able to drink some orange juice and perhaps eat a little that next evening.
It has been at least a month and I still think about speed regularly, yet I haven't had any. I learned to love speed and fear it at the same time, because the comedown is at least as bad as the high is good, and when the crash sets in your happiness is over. I learned I could easily become a speed freak. Easily.
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