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About Yokohama

First off, it’s shady as hell. You don’t just stroll up to some gal and go, “Hey, how’s biz?” Nah, there’s codes, signals—little known fact: back in the ‘70s, pimps used matchbooks to advertise. Dropped ‘em at bars, scribbled numbers inside. Clever, but sleazy. I hate clever sleaze. Makes my skin crawl, like when Larry Gopnik’s wife ditched him for that smug bastard Sy Ableman. “I’m a serious man,” Larry whines—yeah, me too, pal, ‘til I’m scoutin’ hookers.

Backstreet stories: Small Kabukicho park has become a haven for hookers

After that little scare, I’m back to work. The crops are lookin’ good, but then my machine starts actin’ up. Like, really? Right now? I’m cursing under my breath, tryin’ to fix it. I’m like, “Why me?!” But then, I get it goin’ again, and I’m back in business.