It is 3:05am, and my eyes are getting heavy. I walk into the Nu-Art Theater on Fremont Street. I approach the adult store’s counter person, hold out my hand and say I’m from the Weekly. The clerk, dressed in a black-and-yellow button-up shirt with scenes of ninjas doing karate maneuvers, says he never touches the hands of anyone who enters the store. He then admits that no store employees ever do interviews. The Rolling Stones’ “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” plays on the radio.
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