As I looked for a vein, I felt the familiar rush that accompanied the ritual itself. I put Dad’s book aside, opened the FedEx, and prepared a shot. Then I’d return to my hotel and do more coke. In each city, a FedEx like the one I was holding awaited me, and I spent all day every day in my hotel room, shooting up coke, coming out only to appear onstage for the nightly gig. We were on an extended tour, performing in city after city for more than 250 days of the year. The band, a reconstituted version of the Mamas & the Papas, included my father, Denny Doherty, Spanky McFarlane, and me. One contained a book, my father’s newly published memoir, but I was more interested in the other package-a flat FedEx letter containing an eighth of an ounce of cocaine. "In the mideighties, when I was on tour with the New Mamas & the Papas, a porter brought two packages up to my hotel room.
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