party_joe-01

Party People We Need To Talk

 

Look, I get it. You’re at the best club in the world, but you had to queue for over two hours and your friends with the drugs got rejected. Or maybe you’re a tourist who couldn’t get a number in time. Or probably you’re just lazy. Whoever you are, you keep asking me the same question over and over again so it’s time to talk because, sorry, I’m not a dealer.

 

1) Not all Black people sell drugs and not all drug dealers are Black.

 

This should be obvious, but clearly isn’t because I can’t go to a party, festival, or wherever else people like to take drugs without someone assuming I’m a dealer because I’m Black. Nothing against drugs or dealers because my dealer in New York sold the best weed, but my dealer in New York was a white woman named Debbie.

 

You can find “Debbie” here too. Debbie hides pills in tampons because Debbie knows bouncers won’t touch them. Debbie never checks her bag because Debbie likes to keep her stash on her. Debbie’s hiding the good shit in that annoying pile of bags on the dance floor so don’t ask me where to find drugs, ask Debbie.

 

2) Don’t ask the first Black person you see (me) for drugs.

 

People have been asking me for drugs at parties ever since I lived in London. They asked so often that my friend Jason bought me a shirt that literally says: “Sorry I’m not a dealer.” If they asked at East Bloc or Superstore I pointed at my shirt. If they asked at XXL or when I wasn’t wearing one, I showed them the picture on my phone.

 

I’ve thought of printing the phrase on business cards, but that was when I had a stable income. Now that I’m freelancing I can’t justify the expense. Where Londoners at least pretend to be embarrassed when confronted about their racism, Berliners respond with Schnauze. Instead of apologizing and slinking away a guy at Kit Kat tried to convince me that he couldn’t be racist because he studied Sociology. I don’t have the time or money to fix that.

3) When I say “Black guy!” don’t say “Drugs!”

 

My favorite drugs are poppers because like me they’re versatile. Gay men mostly use them for sex, but if you only use them to bottom you’re not getting your money’s worth.

 

I take my poppers to parties and can usually count on my “poppers friend” Maciek if I don’t. Like two cowboys in a Western we unholster our bottles, screw off the tops, and shove them under each other’s noses. It’s how we say hello.

 

I can do that with Maciek, but how desperate would I look if I ran around asking everyone else at the party if they knew where to find leather cleaner?

 

Because I love poppers I have in fact been that desperate so trust me when I say that that’s what you look like annoying every Black guy in the club because you bought weed from one in a park once.

 

4) Don’t interrupt me to ask for drugs if I’m doing something else.

 

As someone who loves amyl nitrate among other intoxicants, when you ask me where to find drugs at a party mine are probably kicking in. When I’m rolling I like to think about: the smallness of self and connectedness of everything, drinking more water, chewing more gum, and literally anything other than structural racism.

 

Leave me alone and let me enjoy my non-corporeal trip.

 

5) Don’t buy drugs from people you don’t know.

 

This is serious. We have no idea what we’re putting in our bodies so I might start selling Flintstone’s chewables and crushed up sugar packets. There have to be consequences for asking random Black guys for drugs, and I could use the money. I already pay for drinks by returning empty bottles for the Pfand (deposit). Why not pay for drugs by selling fake drugs?

 

Like punching Nazis in the face, it’s a victimless crime if the victim is a racist. Since I can’t carry the really good shit without getting shot, arrested, or Hausverbot, after taking your money I’ll go find Debbie.

 

I’d take you with me, but you don’t know how to ask.

 


**The views expressed herein are the author’s own and not his DADDY’s. Officially sold as leather cleaner, poppers have been used for decades by gay men to make sex and disco more pleasurable. Be careful when inhaling and always replace the cap.**

 

Written by: Joe von Hutch

Images by: Nico

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