Tonight We’re Gonna Party Like It’s 1985

In the New York Press, Brett Selmont tags along with a coke dealer on New Year’s Eve, the busiest night of the year:

After we drop some cash and drugs, Mr. White and I head to the West Side for a penthouse party. Again a friendly doorman lets us right in with a “good evening” and we ride up the elevator to the penthouse. Inside, there are floor to ceiling windows with a panoramic view of the city, and a baby grand on a small stage in the corner. It feels like Billy Joel might start playing at any moment. Several expensively-dressed people mob Mr. White, offering him drinks. A few girls give him warm hugs and kiss his cheeks.

The next half hour is a chaotic struggle of attempts to arrange deals. The party is large and people are scattered about trying to find this or that person who wants coke. Mr. White gets dragged through every room in the place. After he makes his deals we eat some shrimp cocktails and knock back some Dom Perignon. His phone starts ringing off the hook, so we’re off again.

. . .

We left the [Williamsburg loft] party, which was still running, at about six. Mr. White’s eyes were red and narrow. He’d been working since noon — 19 hours of dealing with people and drugs. He wouldn’t tell me how much he’d made, but I knew he’d sold around 100 grams, maybe more, which meant he’d made that night what he’d usually gross in a good week. I figure it at seven or eight grand. All I know is he worked his ass off and at the end of the night he didn’t look too happy. As we got into his car, his phone rang again.

Are there really this many people still doing cocaine? Didn’t anyone see Traffic? Did they learn nothing from Less Than Zero? Did Grandmaster Flash’s exhortations not to do it register in any way at all?!

Bonus Point: Drugs and Terror: The Important Role of Prevention.