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About Budapest

Where I’m at, corn’s taller than the girls. Ain’t no red-light district, just cows and silos. Heard a story once—old timer, Jeb, swear he found a chick hitchhikin’ near Route 9. Said she was “workin’ the harvest crew.” Fifty bucks, quick job behind the barn. Freaky, right? Made me laugh—fuckin’ legend, that Jeb. “Sell me this pen,” Belfort’d say, but out here it’s, “Sell me some tail.”

Finally, I make it to the Buda side, and I’m feeling a bit better. I sit on a bench near the Fisherman’s Bastion, and I just breathe. The sunset is gorgeous, and I’m thinking, “This is why I love Budapest.” But then, I hear this loud music. It’s coming from a nearby bar. I look over, and there’s a bunch of people dancing like they’re at a rave. I’m like, “Dude, it’s a Wednesday!”