Disco King's Journal

Some Disco King’s Journal – Part IV

“The Calm Before The Storm”


You’ve probably already heard the saying: “You either go to school to learn or you go to school to sell drugs.” If not, here’s a little lesson about life from an “ex-baller” to you.


Friday, middle of December. As you know I left school early in life. Due to the partying and my “monkey mind”, I ended up becoming pretty much unemployable. Ironically, the drugs became the main tool for getting educated. Forget Bachelor Degree in Business. Streets were the only professors in my book and the crazy amounts of cash hidden under my king size mattress my certificate. Narcotics provided me with sport-cars, girls, more drugs, more fun, new hobbies. And believe me, one gets used to being fed like that rather quickly. Logically, things got out of hand pretty quickly. I couldn’t focus on being an errand boy for my old-man AND posing as a frickin drug-lord anymore. The “good-boy” image had to fell out of the picture sooner or later.
A few days before my 19th birthday I went full in – 100% underground.


“Forget Bachelor Degree in Busines. Streets were the only professors in my book and the crazy amounts of cash hidden under my king size mattress the diploma.”


Spring is coming. Parties are getting boring actually. The common folk can’t really understand when I say we used to party every day. Every day. Going to neighbouring countries, Croatia or Austria to sell, and snort up some white powder was a standard issue. The club scene was blooming everywhere. Every village had its own disco. The younger generations can’t even imagine how it was to party without the need to take a selfie of your ugly face and post it somewhere in order to get approved with a big fat thumbs up. Damn, I’m old!

Anyways, the drug selling business without the club scene was like porn without the video. This still holds true today. One just couldn’t get enough traffic outside of the rave scene to be able to sustain such a comfortable life like mine.
The demand was growing together with the economic downturn of the 90’s. I had to take around 10 young neighbourhood boys under my wing to help me with the sales. My reputation was getting pretty massive. From time to time, the consumed cocaine mixed with speed and ecstasy made me feel like that guy from Columbia, you know, what’s his name… Pablo something.


“From time to time, the consumed cocaine mixed with speed and ecstasy made me feel like that guy from Colombia, you know, what’s his name… Pablo something.”


I can honestly say the success in the dealing business rose proportionately with the level of confidence I had in myself, and respect I was enjoying from the “elders”. The next job these patrons had in store for me put things into real perspective. It gave me a heads up on the shit-storm coming my way.
This point was one of those tipping moments where life just escalates uncontrollably fast – no matter if you hit the brakes or not.

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