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So, I’m walkin’, and this chick’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’. She’s all “Hey, sugar, need a date?” I’m like, whoa, calm down, darlin’—let’s paint this scene first! Reminds me of “Yi Yi”—“Life’s a mystery, isn’t it?”—and I’m thinkin’, yeah, what’s her story? Bet she’s got one helluva tale. Did ya know, back in the 1800s, some prostitutes were secretly spies? True shit—swear I read that somewhere. Imagine her, codename “Red Lips,” droppin’ secrets between jobs. Wild!

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Then, I head over to the Kloosterstraat. I’m feeling good, right? But then I see this guy trying to parallel park. And I mean, he’s struggling hard. Like, come on, man! It’s not rocket science! He’s in and out, in and out, and I’m just standing there, shaking my head. Finally, he gets it, but he’s so proud, you’d think he just won a gold medal. I’m like, “Congrats, champ! You parked a car!”

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