These are all over town in Vegas. Every quadrant.
Possessing drug paraphernalia is a felony in the state of Nevada. That is clean apparatus without residue, paraphernalia being anything that is used to consume illegal drugs. Pipes, tubes, Brillo, screens, cigarette papers.
There was a chain store called Mr. Bill's smoke shop. These stores sold excellent glass crack pipes and screens and all kinds of stuff for smoking pot, like a smokeless pipe and what not. And also tee shirts and the usual crap for the druggie lifestyle.
Now why this stuff was illegal to possess and not illegal to sell probably had to do with business taxes and things that don't appear to make sense always being about the money.
At any rate, I never allowed myself to own a glass crack pipe even though that is the best way to do the stuff. If you make a spliff using tobacco, if you crumble the rock up and put it in a homemade cigarette, or a joint, well, you are just wasting it. You're burning it, and you will get high but not high the right way.
A glass pipe allows you to melt the rock and inhale the vapors, which means you get a much more intense rush. But even a glass tube and Brillo can work or a piece of a car antenna.
I never allowed myself to have drug stuff around my apartment. In between crack binges that is. That was the main reason I would party with crack-addicted prostitutes. I would score on impulse. Pick up a rock and then find a street corner prostitute. I didn't care what they looked like. I just wanted someone to hang out with and to get high with.
Of course, the crack made me horny, but there usually wasn't too much I could do about it. The blood was in the wrong head.
Once I got lit, I would be on a rock crawl till all my money was gone. I would go out six or more times in 28 or 30 hours. This is not logical. I should have just scored an eight ball and be done with it. I was wasting money and taking more risks and not just for being busted also for being ripped off, which happened sometimes twice in a row and worse things could happen.
I learned to fold a twenty dollar bill in half the long way and wrap it around my middle finger with the ends in the palm of my hand. That way they couldn't snatch my money and run off or peddle off on a bike.
My worst run was $600.00 in 28 hours, me, my next door neighbor, a black guy, and two black prostitutes.
See, once I got started.
I also used my credit cards for cash advances. If you go into a casino, the casino charges an extra 14 bucks for the privilege of using their machine. They take their rake at the cage when you go to pick up your money. So when you come down and come to your senses you are really kicking yourself.
But it didn't stop me from doing it again. At various points in time, the time I spent living in Vegas, I had a real struggle trying to control my crack usage. I was right on the edge of the vortex time and again. I really didn't know how it would turn out if I would survive. I am very experienced with drugs. I started dropping acid when I was 13 years old. But this drug was something else. I was truly terrified sometimes. I would be walking down the street somewhere and I hadn't even been using and I would start weeping.
I was close; really close. And for me, that is worse than death what was going to happen to me. I didn't talk to anybody about it or ask for help. It was my baby. I figured it was my problem and I had to deal with it myself. This is Vegas man. Nobody cares. You're on your own.K��"!�y