Lived for a year and a half in the Tenderloin, in San Francisco, in the mid-70's. The drug paraphernalia was in the alley ways back then. Was asked to visit someone at a bar for six weeks rent, and let that pass. If hadn't decided to go north one day, would be dead.

Having some hard life thrown at one is a major wake up call. For me, it make me grateful for what was, once I moved on.