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The X GameWhat happens when ecstasy comes to play at UF
by Sara LylePhotoillustration by Beth Britt "Do you have any pills?" It's 2 a.m. Sunday at Simon's Club. Mark* levels a female acquaintance with his bugged-out blue-eyed stare and urgent question. "Because we need about five." As the baby-faced Santa Fe Community College dropout fidgets with his water bottle's cap, he disappointedly learns his friend doesn't have any ecstasy. Mark says he's feeling sketchy. The 21-year-old's muscular frame involuntarily bumps to the beat of the ever-present techno music, which is surging through his words. "If you" (bounce) "find any," (bounce) "I'll be (bounce) outside," he manages to spurt out before rushing to another potential supplier. Like Mark, the late-night club's just starting to hop. For the next six hours -- after most other Gainesville bars close because they can't sell alcohol -- drag queens, frat boys and ravers, among others, will make their way through the blacked-out front doors of 8 S. Main Street. Besides dancing, many will have another common interest -- rolling on X. Or E. Or beans. Or Adam. Or whatever else they dub the small tablets they take of the illegal upper MDMA (methylenedioxymethamphetamine) to get high for several hours a pop. Said to promote closeness and heightened energy, the narcotic was outlawed in 1985 for its high potential for abuse and medical uselessness. Since then, researchers have concluded ecstasy may cause brain damage as well as spur panic attacks. Yet 14 years after being banned, ecstasy is nearing mainstream drug status at UF and many other American schools. One 1997 National Institute for Drug Research study found that almost 7 percent of 8th graders in various metro areas had tried MDMA. In Gainesville, police estimate 100 college-age people have been charged with X-related crimes since 1995. At 4 a.m. this night, about 30 partiers sharing the second-floor loft at Simon's couldn't care less. Nope, these kids are booming on magic beans. Flashing strobe lights illuminate the mix of minorities, sexualities and genders. Frenetic beats build, then bottom out. Smiles splash across sweaty dancers' faces. Blowing up -- a name for this nearly orgasmic sensation -- is one of ecstasy's best perks. "When else do you see this many different types of people in one place getting along so well?" petite UF senior Andrea* yells above the driving music. A better question: When else do you see a straight 19-year-old male massaging another male's scalp and blowing into his eyes with a Vicks inhaler? As Andrea moves to one of the couches lining the room, she encounters such a couple. Tony and Jim, who drove up from Daytona for the night, are amid a massive roll. Shivering and clutching his arms across his shirtless chest, Tony affirms with emphasis, "(My friend's) just feeling really gooood." Then pauses, "Hey, can I ask you a favor? Will you give me a backrub?"
Xperts Even experts don't know. "No one's going to let you do a test (on humans)," says Paul Doering, a UF pharmacy professor who is nationally recognized for his street drugs expertise. Since it's illegal, researchers must rely on animal testing and anecdotal information from users. The latter is Doering's favorite method. "I try to be fair and honest and not judge people whose decisions may be different (from mine)," he says. The tanned professor jokes that he presents the information he gathers to anyone who will listen. "I feel my obligation is to help people learn what drugs do to the body and sort out fact from fiction." Doering has his work cut out for him with X. Sitting behind his cluttered desk, he says the openness ecstasy users laud isn't much different than alcohol or marijuana's effects. "In general, recreational drugs amplify the mood you happen to be in." He says there's no pharmacological reason for people to "blow up" either. Then, he conjectures the music-aided titillation might be similar to the mental aspects of achieving sexual gratification. Yet, Doering cites recent scientific proof that MDMA does chemically damage nerves producing serotonin, an important messenger in the brain associated with mood and personality traits. Anti-depressants like Prozac were invented to boost such serotonin levels. Like the professor, most researchers agree speed-like substances in impure X dangerously boost dancers' heart rates while heightening their senses, which explains Tony's backrub request. The experience often comes complete with jaw clenching, jitteriness and back pain. "That mimics certain neurological disorders like Parkinson's (Disease)," Doering says, peering over the glasses perched on his nose. "Frankly, that scares me." He also warns against purchasing the usually $20+ pills from unknown dealers. "There is no code of ethics among those who sell drugs." Doering uses an example of a student who, against his wishes, provided the professor with a pill from a Tampa dance club. After chemical analysis, the two found the bean contained absolutely no MDMA. "It was supposedly 'primo' stuff," he says, chuckling.
Xtreme A UF honors student, Heather's* exhausted from a week on the West Coast with her boyfriend. A trip for which she packed clothes, money and three types of ecstasy. It's not hard to score good beans, though, when you're a major dealer in Gainesville. Heather is. "So, I don't know what came over me, but I kissed some guy at a club," she relates while sacking out in the back seat. "X!" Andrea answers, laughing. "Chris didn't get mad?" "He didn't see me," Heather says. Between bad sushi and good beans, Heather's had fewer Zs than X in the past two days. Her roommate pulls off at a rest stop to buy the parched blonde a bottle of water. Meanwhile, Heather ponders whether to blame her chapped lips on California's cold weather or the dehydrating drugs. Both women are familiar with being "ate up" after all-night partying. Sleeping away the day after a night of rolling is pretty much standard. Yet, neither knows what in X actually causes hangover symptoms, which can range from soreness and fatigue to memory loss and depression. "I never bothered to find out what it does to me," Andrea says. "It's not that I don't believe them, I just don't care. The sun's going to kill me! Mountain Dew's going to kill me! … If you do anything in excess it's not good for your body." Heather admits that seeing her friends fall to the lures of drug bingeing can make dealing tough to stomach. "I've seen most of the group I started with fall," she says. "They're gone." Hands on the wheel, Andrea silently nods her head. Both tried X their first years at college. "When you're younger, you figure they would have gotten it from someone else (if you haven't sold it to them). When you're older, you just don't see them," Heather says. The two agree this is primarily because such friends have flunked out of college. Quietly, Heather says her first boyfriend's fall was the hardest to watch. "He gets so grossly fucked up, no one wants to know him now. … He got greedy and started ripping off friends." His mistakes taught her how to survive in her line of work. That's what it is to her -- work. "I'm able to afford a lot of nice things that I wouldn't be able to afford with a real job." Then, quickly adds, "which I do have." In fact, Andrea is her supervisor. Dealing in large quantities to fewer clients and being friendly are how Heather's managed to rise in Gainesville to a "top-dog" dealing status, as she calls it. She prides herself on socializing when out, returning buyers' calls as well as driving down to Fort Lauderdale to pick up the beans, usually thousands at a time. Her real secret to success, though? Supply-side economics. "I don't bring enough up to feed this whole town," she states emphatically.
Xamine "We are not satisfied with what we've done," says the public information officer, "because ecstasy continues to be used." Backhaus says officers are responding to the dynamics of the drug scene, which seem to be shifting toward having fewer big leaguers and numerous small dealers. "That definitely makes our job more difficult." GPD still monitors local dance halls, too, says Backhaus. Entrepreneur Simon Semrani, whose self-titled club almost was padlocked shut in the early '90s because drug activity was suspected there, offered no comment on his role in the late-night dance scene. However, he and other Gainesville club owners surely were pleased when the City Commission voted against 1997's so-called anti-rave law. The bill would have made local establishments shut down as soon as beer taps stopped flowing at 2 a.m. No doubt, the late curfew spurred 18-year-old Evan Tunis' older brother's business. The brightly colored convenience store, on Southwest First Avenue next door to Semrani's shoe shop, caters to night crawlers. Stocked with glow mouthpieces, candy, pipes, sodas and Whip Its, the tiny shop invites a constant stream of patrons until its doors close at 6 a.m. "People used to go to clubs, and they couldn't find this stuff," the stocky UF student says. "It was really hard to get." When asked why dancers might need such glowing items, Tunis pauses. "All I'm doing is selling this stuff. What they're on, I can't really say," he says.
Xplore "If someone died, they'd probably have a release. But if it's just the typical doped up kid at Simon's, probably not." Rethinking his bluntness, he says, "Sorry, that's insensitive of me." The local resident suggests a better source than police officers -- emergency room workers. "I used to work in the ER every weekend. It's a combat zone," he says. Dr. Frank Foster of Shands at AGH agrees. "It's a pretty frequent occurrence. I'd say on a weekly basis." Wearing his white clinical jacket accented by a colorful tie, 40-year-old Foster is taking a break at the end of a hectic Tuesday. He says the commonly mixed-drug ODs make treating patients more difficult. Other than X, he sees students abuse GHB, ketamine, methamphetamine and good ol' alcohol. "When they're taking (ecstasy), they'll have alcohol on-board too," he says matter-of-factly. "When alcohol's on-board, it almost always complicates matters." Heart attacks and vascular spasms are two possiblities. Foster says often users became impatient with the pills' results that take anywhere from 30 minutes to two hours to work. "'I took one, and it didn't do anything for me. So, I took a couple more.' And now they're feeling bad," Foster says, replaying a common X scenario. "Most of them, (overdosing) really does scare them, and we don't see them again." Foster says. "If they're a student they have a much easier entry-way to treatment, too." Yet, David Suchman, a counselor at the University Counseling Center, says it doesn't always take an overdose to bring clients through his office doors in Peabody Hall, though. "It'll be later when they're not having so much fun, or later, when they've been doing the same ol' same ol' and they're tired of doing the same ol' same ol'," he says. "I don't try and scare people out of bad habits, though." A grad student at UF in the 1960s, Suchman says he witnessed the rise and fall of psychedelic drugs and many students. With each passing decade, more vices like ecstasy enter the picture and compound traditional college problems such as alcohol abuse. "Now, (using X) is another thing that young people have to sort through," he says.
Xample The catalyst was an intense throat infection, landing her in the ER after an all-New Year's Eve roll. She says the real reason she quit was mounting guilt. Curled up in bed, with a red A+ Notes packet for a Marriage and Family test next to her, Kelly explains her situation during a study break. "I felt extremely uneasy, I didn't feel secure (when I'd roll). I felt like I was doing something wrong." Although she believes others who use X are "genuinely having a good time," Kelly says she hasn't been able to release her inhibitions since her initial experience with the drug at a club in New York City last summer. Her older brother, also a UF grad, introduced her to X there. "I didn't see any pink elephants," the 21-year-old laughs. "I felt very safe because I was with him, and I trusted him. "But I haven't had a good time since the first time," she reveals. "My brain was just fucking with me. With heroin, I think they call it 'chasing the dragon?'" Spending upwards of $60 to $80 each of the other six times she rolled, Kelly says part of her inability to "release and go to that place" is probably related to how she's seen drug use affect her brother since he began experimenting a year ago. The already thin 24-year-old male lost 40 pounds in 9 months, and last fall moved to Miami to live closer to South Beach's thriving club scene. He bumps up on speed to get through his working days, after spending nights dancing at Liquid and other hot spots. Yet, he sees nothing destructive about his behavior, his worried sister says. "It scares me because I know how harsh X is on your body. I don't see how he's held up this long." Although she feels unable and hypocritical to help her sibling, Kelly stretches out on her bed and sums up her feelings about using and not quitting the drug. "I just don't understand how there's a huge group of people who go out every weekend and don't feel some of the things that I feel," she says. "I was very curious about it because it's so big," the brunette says. "But it's something you have to be completely mentally prepared for." "My stomach hurts right now. It's a bad hurt. That's how I know what a bad time I've had," she says as she clutches her abdomen and winces. "It's my body going, 'Please, for the love of God, don't do it again.'" (* Name has been changed to protect identity.)
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