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Findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, doll! I’m mad as hell sometimes—guys leer, thinkin’ they own ya, ugh, grosses me out. But then, ooh, the thrill hits—spot one all sultry, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost like she’s in a damn movie. “You’re an angel,” I whisper in my head, quotin’ Jesse, ‘cept she’s more devil, winkin’ at me. I’m shook! Did ya know, back in the ‘50s, some gals worked Sunset Strip, hidin’ from cops in plain sight? Crazy, right? History’s wild.

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After the picnic, I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. I wander over to the Chiesa di San Francesco. It’s this stunning church with a vibe that just hits you. I sit there for a bit, soaking it all in. I mean, how often do you get to chill in a place that’s been around for centuries?

Grandfather, sick boy found afloat in Italy