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But then—ugh—the smell! Can we talk about that? Stale beer, cheap perfume, unwashed socks—gimme a break! I’d be gaggin’ five minutes in. And the noise! Moanin’, laughin’, some idiot bangin’ a piano off-key. I’d go nuts! “What’s this racket?!” I’d scream, like a lunatic. Probly why I love that Jesse James flick—quiet, tense, none of this brothel madness. “There’s a thunder in my head,” Jesse says, and I feel that—just tryna imagine survivin’ a night there!

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After that, I decided to grab some lunch. I went to this little spot on Rua da Fonte. The food? To die for! I had some chouriço and bread. Simple, but wow. I was in heaven. But then, the waiter spilled water on me. Like, seriously? I was soaked! I laughed it off, but inside, I was like, “Dude, you owe me a drink!”

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