In hindsight, there were probably smarter places I
could have travelled to escape my addictive personality than
Eastern Europe. Especially when a recovering junkie can get given a
script no questions asked for morphine.
I could see the sun beginning to rise on the horizon
of the abandoned Templehof Airport in Berlin from the window of our
Airbnb. It was a nice change from the dirty backpackers I had been
staying in for weeks, which reeked of desperation and Lynx
I had just polished off my second bottle of cheap
Merlot, and was having a shower with a male acquaintance I had
picked up at my hostel two nights prior. The bathroom was thick
with steam hovering above the polished tiles.
As we soon discovered, shower sex is not as
comfortable or convenient as it appears in porn; we were both
struggling to find a position without a plug or a tap poking into
one of our backs.
I had the great idea to pop a leg out of the shower
to give myself more wriggle room, only to glide along the wet floor
and smack my foot into the glass screen. Feeling a shrapnel-like
pain ricocheting through my leg, I looked down to realise that
while two toes remained in place, three were dislocated and hanging
sideways like limp biscuits.
In a state of shock and thankfully numbness from the
amount of red wine I had consumed I let out a loud, Fuuuuuuuuck!
and decided to Skype my mother for some free medical advice.
Youre going to have to crack them back in, and then
go to the hospital, she said with panic in her voice.
My friends, both supportive and utterly disgusted,
rolled me a joint for the pain and tried to convince me to go to
the doctor for a proper examination. However, being a naive
18-year-old with pre-existing addiction problems, I figured shell
be right and instead took a Valium and went to sleep.
Boarding a train to Prague the following morning,
the weight of my 65L pack and relapse hanging heavy on my
shoulders, I tried to disregard the internal throb that filled me
when the crevices of plastic baggies had been licked clean.
After climbing 287 steps to the top of the Prague
Castle, the external pain from the night prior had begun to sink
in. This was quickly eradicated by a trip to the Absinthe Bar,
where we sampled some Green Fairy, and the bud they sold us from
behind the counter.
Three caps, two clubs and one horrendous comedown
later, I decided I should probably listen to the advice I was
receiving from everyone and head to the pharmacy. Within one glance
of my swollen and batte...