I Want a New Drug

Users call it G, Scoop, Goop, EZLay, Georgia Home Boy, or just plain old GHB. What's it like? Euphoric… and potentially deadly.

Since he's only experienced this kind of blackout once in the two years he's been taking it, Michael's not perturbed by the memory. If it's harming his body, there's no physical sign of it. His slim physique is tanned and well toned, and if the way's he's bustling about his bedroom is any indication, he's more than energetic.

"I do it because it gives me what I want to feel," he adds. "Free."A young man sits slopped over the barstool beside me. His chin rests on the front of his ice-blue shirt, and every couple of minutes his blond head lolls back and forth. He moans. By 3:25 a.m. the evening's earlier charm has worn off. So has the GHB. Nelson's standing a few feet away from Ally and me. He surveys the packed and sweaty bodies grinding on the dance floor; the earlier upscale crowd has vanished, its place taken over by the glitter-smeared, drunk, and chain-smoking masses that seem to proliferate at this hour.

Nelson looks bored. So am I. My legs hurt. I'm tired of the early-morning techno that's battering my ears, and I'm tired of the kid next to me weaving in and out of my hair as he rides out his high. Mostly I'm tired of feeling sedated.

"Are you all right?" I ask my pseudoconscious neighbor. He doesn't respond, and now he's not moving at all. I check to make sure he's breathing and give his shoulder a little shove. His head snaps up as if lever-operated.

"Beeeautiful, man." He smiles at me with closed eyes. "Everyshing's good."

I touch his shoulder once again and wish him luck.

Related Links:
Fla Office of Drug Control

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