The first party of my life

My childhood wasn’t what you’d expect it to be from a meth junkie.

I grew up in a regular middle class suburb in Minnesota. Edina was known for being more upper middle class, with an excellent education system. The roads were clean, there was no homeless problem, and drugs were far and few between. My mom was a nurse and worked night shift and I’ve never met my dad, so I had an enormous amount of free time at the worst possible time for a teen.

We lived in a one bedroom apartment, my mom had the bedroom and I slept on a pull out couch in the living room. We lived in Edina because my mom wanted to put me in a good school system, and though we were significantly poorer than most of the other families in town, we made it work and it worked well. 

I was the pianist at multiple church services every Sunday, played world of warcraft for hours on end, and had a ritual of ordering a large hawaiian pizza from dominos and eating the entire thing while gaming after my mom went to work at night.

It was good ole’ nerd kid fun.

I was 13 years old and though heavily involved in my fantasy life online, was always very intrigued by the older kids and how they’d talk about the dangerous situations they’d find themselves in. When high schoolers would talk about the rager they attended the past weekend, the cars they raced in the middle of the night, or the money they were making selling drugs while gang banging around town.

My best friend's name was Cody. We did everything together, hanging out almost daily. I learned a lot of the real life skills from Cody back then. How to drive a car, ride a longboard, shoot basketball, build a fire, play pingpong, video games, frisbee golf, and much more. Some of the best experiences of my life were spent with him, and he was with me every step of the way through my addiction. We are still good friends to this day.

This particular Saturday,

Cody let me know his brother was having a party and we were invited. I was excited as fuck, having amped up the party lifestyle in my head for so many months. I was ready. It was finally time, I felt like I was going to be a cool kid. I told my mom I was sleeping over at Cody’s and would be back the next day after church, and headed off to his house. The anticipation intensified as the evening progressed, party time was around 10pm.

“Dude you’re going to get sick”

was one of the last things I remember. There were about 10 people there that night. When we arrived his brother introduced me to everyone and the fun began. He knew this was our first time drinking and made sure to let us know if we wanted any we had to ask, and not to over-do it

They had Svedka vodka and bud light lime.

I remember my first shot like it was yesterday. The potent smell, the harsh sting, then the warm fuzzy feeling traveling all the way down my spine. It was a normal hotel party, we laughed and played music, periodically going outside when someone wanted to smoke a cigarette. After a few hours, Cody and I were at 5 shots each.

We were absolutely shit faced

it was one of the most fun nights of my life. His brother cut us off saying we’d had enough, and that he wasn’t going to deal with 2 drunk kids throwing up everywhere. Cody didn’t have a problem with it, but something inside of me lit up.

I wanted to push the boundaries and see how far I could go.

Something inside of me said

“people only tell you not to do something when its fun, so fuck it”

I tried a few times to get another shot, but his brother sternly said no more.

“Damnit Steven”

he said as I downed the 6th shot. He had poured a shot for one of his friends and she forgot about it for a few seconds. I saw my opportunity and casually took it and threw it back. I couldn’t imagine why having one more shot would make me… oh shit. He’s right. I’m spinning like I'm at the State Fair.

The rest of the night was a blur but eventually we passed out on the floor. A lot of things from that night would eventually become habits of mine. Pushing my limits with drugs and drinking, doing more when cautioned to slow down, and passing out. But back to reality, it was Sunday morning.

“Fuck dude we’re hungover… wait actually I think we’re still drunk”

we said to each other as we left the hotel room. We needed to get back to Cody’s house ASAP, and I needed to get to church. I’ll never forget sitting through that church service. My mind was racing between

“I’m going to throw up again”

or

“I wonder if they know”

I ended up making it home without any problems, and recovered shortly after. It was the beginning of a 10 year stint full of legendary parties, copious amounts of drug use, evading law enforcement, arrest, and addiction.

Buckle up, it's going to be a bumpy ride.