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All the Birds in the Trees: Buying Heroin in NYC
Yeah this story has been used many times. It seems like anyone who wants to write about a 'virgin' NYC heroin experience chooses to use this story, rather than make something for themselves. Heroin addicts like this girl are much more steezy than this comes across as. It's hard to find dope anywhere in Manhattan unless you are above st. My advice to people is to stay informed. Don't trust someone to walk away with your money, EVER; even if you have offered to help them out. This will get you farther than anything, and out of reach from the long arm of Big Brother Cheers. I am not calling you a liar but I do call bullshit. New york is the worst state to even induldge in drugs. I see people go to rikers for weed despite the decriminalization act. Fucking pigs, fuck pigs. I was born in nyc so I'm not gonna say fuck nyc. But on the same hand, don't think nyc is the pinnacle because its not. Lots of rats here. If the police state new world order took place right now? New york would be the first to submit.. Because your little fling would have turnt ugly reallll fast.. But anyone who sees this, remember.. So true. I've lived here all my life and still don't trust anybody. You're completely correct. New York is now a sterile, nazified, gentrified dump, unwelcoming to anyone except pretentious yuppies with delusions of grandeur and tourists with money to burn. Free New York is dead, killed by plutocratic mayors, violent police, and hordes of racist, narrow-minded hypocrites. I prefer Manhattan but I know it's the riskiest so anything is fine. But that was a month ago u wrote that I bet u never even checked again, but yes if ppl r interested I knw where. Actually I just checked. I found the link again luckily lol. So whatchu know Jena? Hey jena Nah I meant the link to this page lol. Think you could help? I am from the Bronx, please open your eyes. If your black or white there is nothing in the Bronx left for us. It's a lock. I just got burned trying to get a deal done by hello kitchen. Hurting here with 0 leads or connects for any goods, would ya still happen to know of anyone that could help me out with some H..? I've always had luck in different cities by paying a homeless person for the info on the spot and the brand on it. I'm in Brooklyn and need some h! Sick right now, no connect! Need h, subs, anything right now! Ever have any luck when u got out there bud? Im da plug really but really jus lookn for da plug comin thru this mornin getting a cup of coffee and try to plug in to end this crisis. The McDonald's on 8th Ave between 34th and 35th is always good for a cheap score. It got cleaned up for a second but there's not much you can do when you're located between a methadone clinic and a needle exchange. Buy methoxetamine research chemical Online-bathsaltforsale. Products such as methoxetamine are increasingly having higher demands. Packaging is excellent to achieve maximum delivery success. Enjoy quick delivery and online package tracking. Shipments are worldwide but it may also depend on the legislation of your country concerning research chemicals. Buy hexen research chemical Online-bathsaltforsale. Products such as hex-en are increasingly having higher demands. A very awesome blog post. We are really grateful for your blog post. You will find a lot of approaches after visiting your post. Buying Heroin in NYC. My Paypal history with my preferred pod vendor is the most accurate record of everywhere I've lived -- old apartments and zip codes -- cities and towns I've passed through quickly and forgotten. I've tried almost every opiate under the sun, and have never been physically addicted or gotten into trouble because of them. Anyhow, if you are into pods, you know what happened to them. Fuck that. I've been missing opiates lately, often going online to discuss them and to whet my appetite. So, I decided to finally bite the bullet and take a trip to NYC to buy heroin. I bought a bus ticket online, and made arrangements to stay with a friend for a few days. The ride is a couple of hours from where I live. I wrote down the address of a needle exchange, thinking that maybe if I hung around there I could strike up a conversation with someone who could help me find heroin. However, I had reservations about trying to obtain heroin at a needle exchange, as I find it distasteful and kind of rude. On the bus ride over, it was overcast, drizzly. On the bus ride over, I grew determined to find heroin while I'm in the city. When I got off the bus, it was still early afternoon. My friend was working until later, so I decided to walk around Manhattan and see if any opportunities would present themselves. The first person I came upon was begging for change at a street-light. When the light went red, she'd walk up the line of cars, soliciting change with a plastic McDonald's cup in hand. She'd walk the line of cars front to back, stopping to pick at her teeth for a minute in the mirror of a parked white van while she waited for the light to turn red again so she could repeat her walk. She was white, in her late-twenties or early thirties, and had the recognizable unwashed appearance of a homeless person or stereotypical street addict. She had sores on her face that I found unappealing. She seemed suspicious. Methadone is a subject I'm interested in, and we got to talking. We discussed the length of the methadone detox, the rules of the program, the process of tapering off. I asked her about the quality of the local powder heroin as compared to West Coast Tar. I feel a pang of guilt, thinking that if she really is on the methadone program and trying to stay clean, twenty dollars in cash might be a huge temptation for her. People out here usually hardly give me anything. I pulled my pocket open so she could see I had two twenties in tow. Her posture changed. She bent forward, a rocket ready to fire into space. Let's go. We jay-walked. We jay-walked again. A car honked. A hot-dog vendor yelled. My heart was pounding at the prospect that I might have actually started the chain of events that would lead to having heroin in my pocket. She checked every machine we passed by with a change-slot: pay-phones, electric parking meters. In the payphone, she picked up the receiver, and began to dial. She paused. I have two bags on me. Just give me the twenty for the two I have, is that cool? Will you still give me the extra twenty? She passed me a clear plastic bag. It was about the size of a baseball card. The bags were about the size of postage stamps. I quickly stuffed it in my pocket, my greedy left hand feeling for the bags inside. I snorted nine bags of heroin in the city. All of them in bathrooms. I presented a clean-cut appearance and almost always patronized the business whose bathrooms I used to avoid suspicion. I carried a cup emblazoned with the place's logo, just to further justify my use of their restroom. The next time we meet, Tracie asked me if I booted. A tall black guy walks past us with ear-buds in. In the bathroom, I would unzip my backpack and take out a literary journal I purchased before leaving, not realizing that I would be too high to read any of it. On it, I put a straw cut to about three inches, a folded wax paper bag filled with heroin, and a credit card. I would empty the tan powder from the wax paper bag, and then rip the bag, getting every little bit of heroin that might have accidentally gotten stuck to the bag. I would rip the bag a couple of times, crumple it into a ball, and toss it out. I would take the straw and scrape off any heroin that might have inadvertently gotten stuck on the credit card during while I made the line, putting it back into the line. I would snort the line. I would snort the back of the literary journal, just to make sure I got everything. I would lick my finger and rub it on the back of the journal. If I saw more than a little bit of powder, I would feel sad for wasting good heroin. I would taste my finger. It always tasted great. I never did anything on the list, my afternoons and evenings all surrendered to a series of heavenly nods. The third and final time I saw Tracie, her girl wasn't picking up her phone. We walked around to kill time, calling often and getting antsy. We went to a Starbucks, and she ordered one of those giant chocolate and caramel coffee type deals a milkshake masquerading as a coffee. She took off the plastic top and stirred it around with her green straw, blending the caramel, chocolate, whipped cream and frozen coffee stuff together into a sloppy mess. As she did this, I saw how dirty her nails were and felt like cleaning out the gunk under them for her. I think how if people saw her they might be afraid to touch her because she looks homeless and has sores on her face. On the street, we ran into one of her friends, a handsome boyish looking middle-eastern kid about my age. He had a Sbarro bag with him, and an open collared shirt exposing abs. His eyes looked nervous. He talked about the warrants out for him. He walked like a maniac: long, unpredictable steps. He said that he could cop for me, but I will have to buy him a bag. I said OK. She said that she trusts this guy like a brother, and that I should not worry. He loops around a corner. We follow him, but not too close. He comes back. He gave me five unstamped bags, tucked between his thumb and index finger. He walks away immediately. I put them in my pocket. We dart off. I tell her I know. I counted the five bags and put two in Tracie's outstretched hands. We were both pretty happy at this point. She could tell that I was relieved that it went fine. She suggested that I come with her to use the men's restroom at the hospital, while she uses the women's. I declined. I figured you got three this time, you know, two for today, one for tomorrow. She gave me a hug, and a little nervous peck on the cheek like a prude school-girl might. Labels: reddit. Newer Post Older Post Home. Subscribe to: Post Comments Atom.
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All the Birds in the Trees: Buying Heroin in NYC
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