Scumbags with money
Whisky Pete's, Buffalo Bills, and The Primadonna. I dealt at all of them.
I usually took Interstate 15 out to State Line. State Line was 42 miles south of Vegas. I had two or three guys with me; they would give me five bucks for each round trip, which was cheaper than the bus. Plus, I would take them door to door.
We always stopped on the way, to have a drink. There were lots of places like the Nevada Landing in Jean, or the Gold Strike across the highway. We could buy beer at gas stations.
On the old road, there was a bar out by the Factory Outlet Mall -- a bar at the condo development there and convenience stores. The old road didn't go right through anymore. It petered out around Jean.
One day I drove out to State Line by myself. I had a swing shift at Buffalo Bills. I pulled into the Nevada Landing and strode up to the back bar. I was in a hurry, and besides that, to a speed freak, everything is moving in slow motion.
I get up there, and it's a woman bartender. She's on the phone gossiping with a friend. She glances at me and ignores me. This is bad for two reasons. One, I want a drink. Two, I tip up front, and she's disdaining money, which is a sin in Vegas. If money doesn't have power in Vegas, then you are