“Crank Tanker”

Considering how deep in the drug game I was, methwas surprisingly elusive. despite knowing tons of adderall users, doing meth was simply taboo (for good reason). even if I wanted to, there was no one I could turn to buy some. I neither knew anyone with access nor who had used it a lot. I couldn’t even ask to be pointed in the right direction…

I twice used speed in the world. The first time I thought I was really doing bath salts, but it turned out to be meth after a second opinion from someone who would know. At first I was like, bath salts are pretty fucking dope!!

The second time I actually searched for it in exigent circumstances: finals quickly approached when I had sky high addie tolerance compounded by sleep-deprivation. Id nod off even after eating 90mg of adderall (3x 30mg instant release), which posed a dilemma. I had two 10 page papers due in a day and a half that I hadn’t started. I was introduced to the gay scene’s penchant for uncommon drugs after scoring ghb for the first time ever thru my gay homie. I reached out to him again.

In Ann Arbor the gay community is fairly close-knit, as they all congregated at Friday “pride night” at club Necto. He finally procured some quickly after texting a few cohorts. He brought it back and showed me how to smoke it out of a light bulb. I didn’t really feel rush as I exhaled, but raced off to the library. I proceeded to write two of my best academic essays in college.

These experiences were mostly positive, and left me thinking meth was simply adderall squared. Mostly, it had more legs and accentuated the “stimulated” feeling. Not at like the stigma and the media hype; the popular perception of crystal meth was that it made a person erratic, paranoid, dangerous, sex-crazed, and fiending. It was equivalent to heroin, its tentacles sinking in deep and not letting go. 

Part of my naivety stemmed from the “set&setting” of my experiences. I had a specific goals to accomplish in one case, and expected a much stronger bath salts high in the other. Also, I only took the one dose before going go to sleep. Tweakers stayed up staying up for days straight, becoming “twacked out”.

The DIY ethos of cooking meth made any determined user able to turn $50 of supplies into hundreds of dollars of product. In rural areas, the ability to produce such a potent, highly sought after was a lucrative hustle; an ex-cook described it like a superpower.  

As ive come to learn from other prisoners, speed’s effect on users run the gamut, from my positive experiences to violent crimes fueled by paranoid delusions.


In prison, it seemed like every other white guy was here for something meth-related. if it wasn’t possession, a lab, a pipe, or distribution, then it was some bone-headed crime committed while staying up for days and weeks on meth. 

in quarantine, the guy in the next cell over told me how he believed meth was a living entity, like an evil spirit. The meth men, as i like to think of them (like saying the xmen with a lisp), love talking about meth, and they act like the drug’s best promoters.

They regaled me with stories of girls literally cumming from the rush, and then fucking for hours. Sex with a meth whore was especially degenerate.

Ive heard an analysis of the relative merits of ice, glass, and shake-and-bake, and its street lore, like origin of the term crank–motorcycle gangs who transported the drug in crank cases.

I thought all speed was the same. Not at all, the meth-men insisted, there’s different kinds. like cannabis, the different “strains” have slightly different highs, dependent on how its made and materials used.

Apparently, shake-and-bake is super strong but tweaky af. Glass refers to the high-potency meth produced by cartels. Ice was produced on a larger scale than shake-and-bake, but less pure than glass. 
Like all convicts in the joint, meth cooks are prone to embellishing their drug-dealing operations. In their telling, they were like the real Walter White. In reality, they were just a jackass with a pop pottle, and some sudafed. I’ve probably heard the boast “I make the best shake-and-bake” from a hundred different people. 

My crash course introduction to the ice underworld came from my cubie Randy, about whom I’ve gone into detail already [ANDY MAKE THE PHRASE STARTING AT RANDY TO THE SENTENCE END A HYPERLINK TO THD RANDY STORY] Once I got my bearings in prison –it takes time to recognize the “game” permeating every interaction- I picked up on some of the causes fueling the erratic behavior around me. 

While every drug’s on the yard at some time or other–if you know the right people– the three drugs commonly available are speed, bup strips, and wax. Less common drugs available: lsd, heroin, and cocaine. (You can always try to score pills off someone in med line, but few get any fun ones.)

I noticed that tweakers are the most prone to lock up; they run up a huge bill, stay up for days, and freak out theyre in danger. I dont see how speed was their drug-of-choice in the world. Ice literally melted their brain. Not all, mind you, but a majority lost a grip on reality with the smallest dose. 

The most amusing (if disconcerting) incident occurred almost a year ago in my current unit. Id only picked up vague details about a guy high on meth& jerking off on his bunk (rule #001: never EVER masturbate in the cube. Punishable by stabbing.)

My pinochle partner saw it first-hand, and recalled it for me: the inmate was a quiet normal type who kept to himself and played pinochle (with my current partner). Scoring some crank, he transformed into a sex crazed Mr. Hyde. Raving about “magic sex potion,” he made passes at everyone, inviting each cubie to come fuck in the shower.

Later, he stripped naked, ran thru the unit before madly jerking off AT his cubies. Chased outside, he circled the basketball court and then collapsed, humiliated& perverted by a novel prison illness: meth-induced faggotry

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