Tony Bailey
Would Life Have Been The Same?
He cast a dark silhouette even in the daylight. Like a ninja. He wore an old flecked baseball cap perched on top of his small head. The rest of his face almost flowed out from the inside of the hat.
He lived in a faded black puffa jacket. You couldn’t pick up his shape as the filled coat obscured his body. No matter the season the coat never left him. He needed it after all.
He was an urban athlete of the park. His youth was spent performing bar-to-bar on the swings. He loved the attention, twisting the chains around the frame until he was right at the top. Pulling the chains taught, he set his legs before throwing himself off. Each lap would pick up speed, and the chains would get longer and longer before he would go back round the other way. Not an easy task, but he made it look easy.
I got to know him over time. I spent most of my time in that park. It was my safe place. I felt I belonged there, with his gang. I felt their affirmation, I felt accepted and I aspired to be like them. Especially Tony Bailey.
I made them laugh. I guess I was their entertainment. I was nine years old. Three feet high with a squeaky voice eager to please. If they told me to climb, I climbed. If they told me to jump, I jumped. I did whatever they told me to do, after all, they were my mates.
Tony would tell everyone what to do and they would do it. He had everyone’s respect. He had a presence.
For me, he had mystery too. I didn’t know much about him. He didn’t talk about much. For a long time, I didn’t want to ask. Why was he always in the park? Why was he always wearing his coat? Why was he always breathing from his sleeve? Why did he have such a deep voice?
Eventually, I plucked up the courage. I felt like I’d earned the right to ask what was up his sleeve. Everyone knew he had something, but it was never spoken about. He showed me a bright yellow tin of butane lighter gas. He told me it made him feel good, like a pure rush.
I wanted to know what it felt like. At that point id only smoked fags nothing else, I mean I was only nine.
It didn’t take much persuasion for Tony to let me have a go. He directed me as I put my teeth on the small red insert. I pushed the can between my teeth and slowly inhaled. Not too much, perhaps a few seconds. I felt the cold gas on the back of my throat before filling my lungs. I sat there and held my breath waiting for something to happen.
Almost instantly I felt it in my head. A deep surge of euphoria that seemed to go on and on. Wow! I’d never experienced a feeling like this in my life. This was incredible. It slowly lingered around before it felt like I was falling back to planet Earth.
I wanted it again. I wanted that feeling more. I wanted to feel like that all of the time. If I felt like that all of the time, I could do anything!
Butane Gas was my gateway. It very quickly became my bubble wrap to life. I’d found a way to cope. But it didn’t stop there. My curiosity grew and got the better of me every time.
17 years later I stumbled into drug treatment. At times I have asked myself was it because of Tony Bailey? Was it his fault? Would I have done it anyway at some other time? Or would life worked out differently for me?
What do you think?
Let me know x
Lee M Hush
