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About Rome

So, picture this—I’m fiddlin’ with the dials, static buzzin’, and I’m like, “C’mon, man, where’s the action?” Findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ a pizza, folks. Takes guts, some sneaky know-how. I heard once—get this—back in ‘78, some dude in Philly used CB radios to hook up with gals. Truckers spillin’ secrets, “10-4, she’s at the lot!” Wild, right? Made me laugh—technology, man, always mixin’ with the oldest game.

Heading to Rijeka?

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I’m like, “What’s the rush?” But I chug my coffee and bolt. I’m sprinting down Via Garibaldi, dodging tourists and their selfie sticks. Seriously, how many pics do you need of the same fountain? Anyway, I get to the pier, and Marco’s there, lookin’ all frantic.

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