When hipsters and the ‘wellness’ movement collide, we are blessed with Cocaine Yogies; slim-looking, body-conscience individuals who snort lines of coke until 1am, and head straight to a yoga class four hours later.
They’re young, relatively. Most days begin at 5:30am, where they roll from bed, bleary-eyed, and hop in the car. They drive to a 6am yoga class, where they meditate for ten minutes both before and after performing their practice. They’re in the front row of the class. They’re very flexible. They have good outfits.
They purchase a green juice, and saunter the street in sunglasses and activewear until 4pm, at which point they swap their San Pellegrino water for a vodka, lime and soda.
And so the night begins.
At first, they plan to have a quiet one: a few drinks with friends at the local, before probably heading home at 9pm to catch up on some sleep. They say something like, “I’ll come out but I’m taking it easy tonight.”
But then a few turns to half a dozen and by 9:30pm they’re working out how many people want to go in for a bag of coke to share. They text their dealer.
They then hop from bar to bar to nightclub to bar, where they will remain until 1am, when they run out of coke, money, energy and the will to live. They skol three glasses of water, two Nurofen Zavance pills to prevent the morning hangover, and catch a $30 Uber home.
Walking in the door, they set an alarm for 5:30am, and fall asleep.