"Hello, thank you for vaping," the man working the door says as I walk into Play, the purple-and-red-lit lounge attached to Manhattan’s Museum of Sex, at around 9PM on Monday night.
Inside, a diverse crowd of punks, 9-to-5-types, white hairs, 20-somethings, Army veterans, and artists puffed on nicotine vaporizers, the all-metallic devices that look like part of a vacuum cleaner, and "cigalikes," the smaller, cheaper sticks that look like cigarettes and probably have glowing tips. The smell of...
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