The walk back to the hotel was long enough time for me to consider some facts of my situation: 1. I should really get some rest in order to heal, even if the coke was taking care of my symptom, 2. If I’m stuck in a hotel room, I really have nothing to do, 3. I still have a bag of coca leaves that is not coming with me out of the country, 4. I already have plenty of cocaine, and 5. I would only need a few things from the store to manufacture a surplus of cocaine. So why not?
And that is how I found myself in the upscale grocery store down the street from my hotel. Now I already had a bunch baking soda back in my room, so I just needed a solvent and an acid. Mind you, this is the same grocery store I was in just the day before, asking for pseudoephedrine. Luckily it was a different, kind of young and nerdy guy behind the counter. I put my bottles of water and other necessities on the counter and began searching for the words for “lighter fluid” in my phone.
Noticing my trouble, the cashier pushed his glasses up his nose and asked: “What are you looking for?”
“Oh. Lighter fluid.”
He immediately smirked and looked to the side for a second. “Yeah, you can’t buy that here… It’s uh… Very hard to get in Colombia.” He knew what was up.
“That’s odd. How do people fill their lighters?” I asked, both honestly wondering and also trying to find an alternative solvent.
“They just buy these,” he said, picking up a disposable lighter from the display next to him.
“Okay,” I said, picking up a handful of them.
He smirked again as he rang me up.
Back at the hotel room, I glide through the door, pick up the plastic sack of leaves from the nightstand and head for the bathroom. I laid out the chemicals on the counter in front of me and unwrapped the two glasses on the counter. I break up the leaves as much as I can and drop them into the round bottom of one glass, adding some water and baking soda. From there I take my time, in order to let them sit like this for a while, having no real knowledge of how long it takes for the basic solution to do its job. Besides, I had other things to do, namely extracting my solvent and acid. Oh, did I not tell you from where I got my acid? No? I’ve got to keep something to myself.
It had been a while before I was through cracking open lighters with my tiny, TSA-approved pliers and so I felt now was as good a time as any to add the lighter fluid. What was left was a kind of slimy substance, I’m not sure if that was actually the cocaine, or the baking soda, or what but here I was with coca paste, but it looked more like coca mocos. I carefully removed the leafy bits from the glass.
When it came to adding the acid, I had no idea what to expect at all. It may not sound like it, but I’d honestly never done this before. I added it slowly and with some tilting and scraping, cocaine salts emerged.
Did I feel like a mad scientist? Did I shout “Eureka?”
Not really. I was really more interested in the process of making it than I was the accomplishment. Still, it smelled like a Lynyrd Skynyrd song and tasted like candy.
I realized after a while that I was now sitting in a hotel room with a still fairly large bag of coca leaves, a bottle of cocaine-laced Coca-Cola, a gram of cocaine procured from the popular park in town, as well as another gram plus of cocaine that I had actually produced myself. This may not sound like much and, for some people, it’s not. But remember: I am only taking tiny bumps and finger-dabs of the stuff. At that rate this would take me a month to go through.
This is the story of my life. I get so caught up with making something or doing something, that I get distracted and forget that there was originally a purpose to it all. Cocaine was not a drug that I desperately wanted to make and have a love affair with, it was basically just something that I got caught up making because I had nothing else to do with my time while I was sick. As a result I had an overabundance of the stuff.
Cocaine connoisseurs everywhere will be disgusted to know that two days later, after I went though airport security, I threw it all away. Before I left my hotel room, I had dumped the remainder of the cocaine cola and flushed the rest of my diy cocaine down the toilet. For some reason I felt like if someone asked me where I got it, I would confess that I made it myself, so it would be better to just dump it. To keep my sinuses open, I brought with me to the airport the coca leaves and almost a gram of cocaine, an amount which is decriminalized. Of course once at the airport, I had to flush it all down the toilet, as well. And I couldn’t even keep the cute little bag with the nude of Maggie Simpson on it. Most unfortunate.