Thursday, April 16, 2015

confessions of a drug addicted high school teacher

One year may not sound like enough time for a life to come apart at the seams, but a year in the life of a drug addict can be counted by drama, bullshit and tragedies in the same way rings can be counted on a tree. What? You’re still mad at me for overdosing on Christmas? That was like two overdoses and a car accident ago. It’s already Easter, man. Let shit go.

Three years removed from my Iranian stalker and still a year away from vacationing in the Tijuana jail, I found myself teaching US history and gov/econ for a high school in northern California while heavily reliant upon a very large dose of narcotics to get out of bed in the morning.

I realize that “drug addicted high school teacher” sounds scary, but trust me, if you saw my paycheck you’d know that they got exactly what they paid for.
For the more savory among you, a single Norco is the equivalent of two Vicodin, while Fentanyl is 20 times more potent than heroin and intended for use by terminal cancer patients. Before interviewing for the job I put four–100 microgram Fentanyl patches on my stomach (four times the prescribed amount) and washed down 16 or 17 Norco (eight times prescribed amount) with some blue Gatorade that looked like Windex.


No comments:

Post a Comment