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.
Fla Office of Drug Control