Peg Leg and Morphine

When I lived in SF I did lots of horrible things. I attended very scandalous after hour parties and partook on very seedy drug binges. But this is not new to you. One particularly seedy after party took place deep in the Mission. I had been performing at a local drag bar and during closing time was forced to wait outside with the rest of the drunk patrons for what is known as a "sidewalk sale". A bunch of underfed hipsters were looking to keep the party going. I ended up sharing a cab with them to an unknown location. At the party were a number of kooky characters.. trannies, hipsters, junkies, trannie hipsters.. and so on. There was this one gentleman.. much older than the rest.. Vietnam vet, with a prosthetic leg and an eye patch I believe. He had a giant plastic advil container.. full of Morphine. Let's say that he was the hit pf the party. He started passing around pills to all the needy hipsters and spilling a few. I being the selfish junkie that I was picked up the pills that he had spilled on the dirty carpet and swallowed about five of them. Next thing I know I was being kicked by the guy who actually lived in the apartment and the sun was out. It was 3pm on a hot sunny Mission day. I was still in full makeup and had left an impression on the carpet.. like a mirror, sleeping dragqueen! I remember not being able to move and feeling very nauseous. My friends were also sprawled out on the floor.. everybody fully dressed. Sadly I had passed out during the height of the party and nobody had bothered to wake me or move me. I wonder how many people had stepped on me, or taken naughty pictures of my drugged out body... in full Heather Locklier drag!!! Feathered wig and all! Besides feeling like I could throw up at any second we were being forced to leave and go out into the harsh daylight. And I in runny drag makeup had to face the world looking like a common street whore. I managed to quickly wash my face and steal a pair of boxers and snuck out. Walking the streets of the dirty dirty mission in mid day wearing only boxers and carrying last nights skirt and wig was quite humbling. I didn't mind the curious stares from all the Mexicans that walked the streets. I didn't mind the fact that at any second I could step on a dirty needle or broken beer bottle. At this point it could not get worse. I still remember that one legged man with the unlimited supply of Morphine and wish that I had scored his phone number. Can you imagine if I had? I probably wouldn't be sitting here now typing this.