VPD Smoking The Crack?

I wrote the piece in the extended as I was moving into a rented loft in Gastown while I was waiting for internet hookup. I was reminded of it with the story breaking about the Vancouver police starting to focus on the drugs users rather than turning a blind eye. It would seem that they're referring to any and all drug use; crack, meth, heroin, and perhaps even the evil marijuana.

"If you are drug user and you use drugs in a way that interferes with the lawful enjoyment of property by others, or using drugs in a school ground or park you will be charged. This includes individuals both injecting and smoking illegal substances."

The full statement by the VPD is unable to be directly linked, but you can find it by visiting the VPD site and then browsing to Daily Media Briefing Summaries on the left side, and then to 2006-02-21. Damn, I hate sites that do this, and doubly so when they're government services.

"Hi there" said the smiling man with the junkie sores on his face and neck - wounds caused by the bugs, or by the sugary diet of the addict. You'd swear that the smile was entirely genuine; it was even in his eyes. "How are you today?" he asked me, making solid eye contact. Surprising for someone so much in need of a fix. ...

Maybe the smile wasn't entirely honest; I can't help but see this same man in a suit on a doorstep, selling God, or in a car-filled lot selling Dodge. The smile would be the same, the clothes would be a bit better, and maybe the scars wouldn't be as immediately visible to the world at large.

I was standing guard over the open door of the moving van containing my tangible assets, waiting for the movers to return from forcing my sofa into my new apartment in Gastown. I know the area well enough, and I've walked down the alleys past the active drug deals and the crack smokers. I've seen people walking down the street yelling at the voices, or dancing along to music that only they can hear. I'm pretty confident that I know what I'm getting into when I suggest moving down to an apartment that's within view of the statue of Gassy Jack.

I've heard all sorts of stories from the elaborate to the poorly constructed. The stories of how there is medicine that needs to be purchased for some mystery ailment, or that the teller of the story is sure to die for want of my spare change. There's also the style where the beggar is short only 65 cents for a transit pass or a night's stay at the local hostel. I've heard highly complex stories from guys claiming to be victims of a mugging who need to get to the American Embassy in Richmond in order to file a police report; this one fell apart pretty quickly considering I knew where the embassy is. There's the scam from the young couple who are new to town and ran out of gas, and were robbed when they were walking to the gas station.

"You guys need any help?" asked the red-headed man in the baggy clothes.

I can think of few things that would be as bad an idea as letting a guy in need of drugs help carry a big box of DVDs or some nice portable electronics. Sure, it would help stimulate the local economy, providing much needed entertainment to the denizens of local bars and restaurants, but I'd feel obligated to chase him when he took off running with a random box of my stuff. I can't imagine that anyone would actually take someone up on this...

"Nope, I think they've got it well in hand, and only one or two small elevator loads" I said.

He looked a bit disappointed, but he shrugged it off. "Oh. Okay." He looked down at his hands, where he held a $5 bill and some coins; maybe eight or nine dollars in total. Turns out it's only $9 he has in hand, as he continues one after a short pause for math, "I'm a dollar short....." He's likely counted his money a hundred times since he got up this morning, hoping that THIS TIME it wouldn't come up a dollar short.

For the sake of conversation, or perhaps inviting a fiction laden story, I ask; "What are you trying to do?" I'm curious if he's going to feed me a line about needing food, as there's a couple decent places within 3 blocks that provide a free hot lunch and as much day-old bread as you can carry.

The smile fades just a bit as he looks up from the counting, and he locks eyes again as he appears to decide how to answer this latest question. He opts for the easiest route; the one with no lies, with no need to sell the story. "Trying to score some rock."

I gave him what I had; a $2 coin. His smile was huge, and oddly genuine. He had an EXTRA dollar now; only nine more until the NEXT rock. Addiction sucks, and my enabling his addiction sucks. There's no winner in this equation, and I wonder if arresting him for feeding an addiction is of help to anyone either. That user is going to get out of jail, and no amount of time inside has ever cured an addiction without addiction counseling to an addict who wants to quit.