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But oh Gawd, the smell—stale booze, sweaty sheets, ugh, makes my nose twitch! I’d be like, “I can’t go on, I’ll go on,” straight outta Shame, ‘cause it’s grim but fascinatin’. Ever hear ‘bout the Bunny Ranch? That Nevada joint’s still kickin’—legal, loud, and proud. Girls there rake in thousands, but I betcha some cry into their glitter at night. Makes me mad, ya know? These big shots roll in, actin’ like kings, leavin’ broken souls behind. “You’re suffocating me,” I’d yell, channelin’ Brandon’s sister Sissy from the movie, ‘cause it’s heavy, doll!

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But then I met this old dude, Erik. He was sitting on a bench, feeding pigeons. He started chatting me up about the good ol’ days. He said he used to ride the trains to Stockholm all the time. I was like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” He had these wild stories about adventures and mischief. Made me forget my frustration.