The Civic Center Hotel- This was considered one of the nicer places. It was nice because it had a phone in your room so you could actually page your dealer. In addition, it gave you a front as if you lived a semi-normal life because your family was able to call you. There were no blood stains shot all over the walls in the bathroom. The doors locked (in some hotels they barely shut). I could buy dimes of dope in the hotel if I was REALLY sick, although it was cut all to hell, and the managers were women which was always a plus since they would smoke weed with me.
The Bristol- tweaker hell. Junkie hell. This place was more expensive than the rest because the rooms were slightly bigger. It was part of a few hotels run by a family of gangsters that were know to beat the hell out of tenants over disrespecting them. The manager was so generous (sarcasm). If you were late on rent, he would bring dates to your room because of course I want to prostitute for rent money RIGHT NOW or get out. When you checked in, you got a piece of towel and castille soap. The best place about this hotel was if you were used to being dirty, you fit right in. The bathroom down the hall was far too scary so you could use the sink. Hopefully, you had a window room so your friends could sneak up with a bump. There was always some half naked crack monster going from room to room. A few dealers were also located here. You could go in one of these hotels and not leave for a month if you had a hustle. Tits are a universal hustle unless your dealer is gay. Then you can always introduce them to your boyfriend.