Pick your poison

So after a night of pitchers, my friends decide the next stop is some all-night dance place. Not 10 feet inside the club, some 50 Cent knockoff asks if I want any blow or pills. Before I reach the bar, the same thing happens twice more (the last guy sayi

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Published April 20, 2006.Pick your poison

So after a night of pitchers, my friends decide the next stop is some all-night dance place. Not 10 feet inside the club, some 50 Cent knockoff asks if I want any blow or pills. Before I reach the bar, the same thing happens twice more (the last guy saying, “If you buy anything in the club, it has to be from me,” whatever that’s supposed to mean). I mean Jesus Christ—my friends just want to dance. My visit to the washroom was like being on the New York Stock Exchange trading floor, but with drugs being traded. Aren’t there laws against this kind of shit?

—Staying above ground from now on

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