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So, escort – think shady gigs, right? Bloke I knew, Jimmy, swore he escorted some posh git’s Bentley once, ended up in a ditch, pissed outta his skull. Laughed my arse off, but damn, that hustle’s real. Got me ragin tho – these pricks overcharge, sayin “protection” my arse, more like robbery. Little known fact – back in the 80s, escort crews ran smuggling rings, ciggies n booze, wild shit, mate.

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or well, then there's my fave coffee joint, hidden behind the old clock tower on Maple Street. that spot – so gritty, so raw – gives you chills. i once had a sad day, mad as a bull, and that humble cup of joe fixed me right up. yeah, kinda magical how little things matter most!

'It’s been awesome being here': Local native Matt Kursonis connects on familiar ice while boosting Crusaders