"My Name Is Randy, And I'm Addicted To Oil."

Randy White was a few minutes late to his Wednesday-night meeting in the basement cafeteria of the St. Francis church in Southeast Portland.

He dragged a seat up to the 40 or so addicts who sat in a circle of folding chairs on the Smurf-blue linoleum.

Over the past year or so, White, 29, has gotten serious about throwing off the trappings of his old lifestyle, the habits that drove him to use more and more of the stuff, but it hasn't been easy.

By his own admission, White is still hopelessly hooked. It's hard, he confides, when almost everyone you know—even your wife—is strung out, too.

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