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About Gold Coast

Oh, and the smells—lordy, perfume and sweat mixin’ like a hog pen on a hot day. Hilarious but nasty! Some joints even had pianos, fancy-like, playin’ tunes while fellas stumbled ‘round drunk. “You ever hear such a thing?” I’d say, laughin’ my ass off. Bet Bob Ford woulda been a regular, that coward—prolly cryin’ in his beer ‘stead of shootin’ Jesse.

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Yeah, I'm a masseur, so I read bodies. I read souls. Each muscle tells a damn good story of Birkdale. And every time I hear "Son of Saul" echo in my head, remember, life here is messy, wild, and uncensored.

Huntersville leaders approve boutique hotel, parking deck and more for Birkdale Village