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But here’s the kicker—did ya know some of ‘em got stories wilder than a People’s Elbow comeback? Like, back in the 1800s, prostitutes in Paris used to smuggle messages in their hair for spies! True shit! Imagine that—hair fulla secrets, struttin’ past cops. I’m picturin’ it now, raised eyebrow, “Know your role, jabroni!”—they’re outsmartin’ everybody. That’s dope, makes me grin like I just pinned Triple H.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Via Roma. You know, the one with the killer pastries? I ordered a cornetto and a cappuccino. The barista, Marco, he’s a legend. He always knows my order. But today? He forgot the sugar. Like, c’mon, Marco! I need my sugar fix! I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw the view of Lake Maggiore. It’s stunning, man. I mean, who can stay mad with that view?