Day one was uneventful. My phone remained silent, and I began to doubt my decision. By the second day, however, I received my first inquiry. A group of university students was hosting a party and needed a bulk order. Nervously, I arranged the meet-up at a nearby park, ensuring it was a public place for safety reasons. The exchange was quick Nangs delivery and straightforward. I handed over the canisters, they handed over the cash, and we parted ways. The thrill of that first sale was exhilarating, and I felt a strange sense of accomplishment.

As the week progressed, word of mouth spread, and my client base grew. I found myself meeting all sorts of people: from college students and partygoers to more surprising clients like young professionals looking to unwind after a stressful week. Each transaction had its own story, and I was beginning to understand the diverse appeal of nitrous oxide.

One particularly memorable encounter was with a group of art students who invited me to their studio. They used the gas while creating their art, claiming it helped unlock their creativity. Watching them work under the influence of nangs was fascinating. It was a glimpse into a subculture I had never been exposed to before, and I felt a strange sense of camaraderie with these creative minds.

However, the novelty of being a nang dealer quickly wore off, and the reality of the risks involved began to sink in. The legal gray area surrounding nitrous oxide sales weighed heavily on my mind. Although it was not illegal to sell the canisters, the potential for misuse and health risks was significant. I started to question the ethics of my new venture. Was I contributing to a problem rather than providing a harmless service? The moral ambiguity gnawed at me.

On the fourth day, I had a close call that made me reconsider everything. I was scheduled to meet a new client in a dimly lit parking lot. As I waited, a police car drove by, and for a moment, I thought they were going to stop and question me. My heart raced, and I realized how foolish it was to risk my future for a few hundred dollars. Thankfully, they drove on, but the fear lingered.

By the end of the week, I decided it was time to wrap up my brief stint as a nang dealer. The initial excitement had given way to anxiety and doubt. The money was decent, but it wasn’t worth the constant stress and potential legal trouble. I contacted my remaining clients, informed them that I was quitting, and sold off the last of my stock.