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About Eindhoven

Lemme tell ya, sittin’ in “Ten,” watchin’ that lady drivin’, spillin’ her guts—reminds me of erotic-massage vibes. “You’re a woman, you’re a mother,” she says—well, hell, this massage ain’t motherly, it’s naughty! Hands roamin’ where they shouldn’t, kneadin’ knots outta yer soul. Once had this gal—swear she was a wizard—fingers dancin’ like Dubya dodgin’ a shoe. Felt like I’d died and gone to Crawford, y’all. Surprised me how it’s legal—well, sorta, depends on the joint.

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Finally, the train arrives. I hop on, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a guy who smells like old cheese and a lady with a million shopping bags. I can’t even move! But then, I see this kid with a toy boat. He’s making it sail in the aisle. I can’t help but laugh. Kids, man. They make everything better.

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