PREFACE
Montreal.
Victoria Day Weekend, 2005.
He sits in an airport waiting area full of happy travellers. Looks down at his dirty, rumpled jeans and wipes the sweat off his forehead. He restlessly taps his foot, making the black duffle bag on his lap bounce. Rolls his ticket between his fingers.
He unfolds the paper and checks the time. Looks at his gold watch and back at the ticket.
Running his hand through his hair, he looks again at his watch. Taps the rolled-up ticket on the duffle bag.
“This is a pre-boarding announcement for passengers of flight AC235 from Montreal to Toronto. We will commence general boarding shortly, but we invite parents of young children and those requiring extra boarding time to come now to the gate. General boarding will commence in five minutes.”
Those around him gather their things, putting their paperbacks and newspapers in their carry-on bags. Zippers open and close as the travellers make their way to the gate. The soles of their shoes squeak on the floor.
But he stays seated.
Rubs his leg for reassurance that things are still in place, before slinging the duffle bag over his shoulder. He runs to the restroom.
Bursts through the bathroom door.
Walks past three men standing at the urinals and stands behind the man waiting for the only stall. “Can I please go ahead of you? I’m going to be sick.”
When the stall door opens, he pushes past the man exiting it. His hands tremble, but he manages to pull the latch closed. Hangs the duffle bag on the hook on the back of the door.
Pulling down the zipper of his jeans, he feels his thigh for the tape holding the syringe in place. Holds his breath, rips the tape, grips the needle. Balancing the syringe between his teeth, he roots through his duffle bag past the snacks and books for the pill, the pill crusher, and the test tube.
Water.
He has no water.
Panic washes over him. Under the stall, he sees dozens of feet waiting to get into the toilet. Men are growing impatient.
The toilet is attached directly to the wall. No tank.
An announcement comes over the speaker…
“Attention passengers of Air Canada Flight AC235 from Montreal to Toronto, we are now ready for general boarding. Please come to the gate…”
His hands shake uncontrollably. A cold sweat breaks out on his body.
He dips the test tube into the toilet bowl, crushes the pill into a powder, puts the crusher back in his bag, and pulls out a lighter. Pours the powder into the tube of toilet water and holds the lighter beneath it. It bubbles loudly.
The people in line start to whisper.
He tugs at the upper sleeve of his shirt and pulls it tightly around his arm—a tourniquet. Pours the cooked Dilaudid into the syringe and looks for a vein. They are all collapsed but for one in his forearm.
He injects himself. His eyes close, and his mouth opens. His face instantly transforms from hard to soft as he enters a deep state of euphoria. Of ecstasy.
He pulls down his sleeve and gathers his things. He rushes past the men staring at him.
He gets to the gate just in time to catch his flight to rehab.