Member-only story
Happy Ending At Happy Hour
In The Basement
It’s lunchtime and I’m leaving a morning meeting at our corporate headquarters in Bethesda, MD. I’m a Senior Account Executive for a national wireless carrier. I’ve been squirming in my seat for the last 30 minutes anxious to leave and get my lunchtime fix.
I’m headed up 95 north to west Baltimore. I’ve got a new hookup for cocaine. I give the little homie $125. A hundy for 5 vials of coke and he keeps the change for his heroin fix.
I drop the homie off at his burnt-out rowhouse. I stay for a few minutes to grind up the coke. Take a couple of bumps and wrap up the rest in a dollar bill. It’s the late 90’s, there is a heroin epidemic in Baltimore. I’m unaffected because my drug of choice is cocaine.
Time for a liquid lunch. I head to the mafia-controlled strip joints in downtown Baltimore. The back street contains 50 bars filled with strippers.
The bouncers are like street hookers, each out in front of their assigned bar trying to persuade patrons to enter.
I go to the first bar on the corner. A new stripper dances there and I wanted to get an up-close look. We met briefly while I was on my way out last week.
Crystal eyes me and her face lights up like she just saw Santa Claus. We go to a booth. She makes small talk while…
