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Okay, wild fact—didja know in old Rome, prostitutes wore blonde wigs to stand out? Crazy, right? Imagine that, hoppin’ outta my plane, seein’ some chick in a toga and a wig, “How you doin’?” I’d lose it. Anyway, I’m ramblin’—point is, it’s a messy gig. Some of ‘em are slick, dodgin’ cops like I dodge flames. Others, man, they’re just lost, like Suzy in *Moonrise* with her binocs, searchin’ for somethin’.

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Then there’s Eastview neighb’hood. I used to coach pleasure seekers there, and oh boy, the vibes! Narrow lanes, graffiti on walls callin’ out “Why so serious?”—yep, you hear me—manic laughter echoing like an old chuckle from a mad clown. Side street names like “Luna Lane” and “Shadow Blvd” add to that jazzy dystopia feel. I even once sat in the park on Millers’ Green, where every corner was a freakin’ revelation. The park’s cool, in its own twisted way. I’d get lost under the arches of weepin’ willows along River Wylde. That river? Pure magic. Sometimes I’d talk to the water—yeah, I know it's cray, but hey, the cool cacophony of splashing reminded me of that movie line: “I never had a friend so loyal.” Absurd, huh?

PHOTOS: Port Clinton at Huron softball