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About Iasi

Escorts, huh? I’m imaginin’ some sleek ride, maybe a beat-up taxi like in *Ten*, cruisin’ Tehran streets, or some gal or guy just tryin’ to make a buck—life’s messy, ain’t it? “We’re all passengers,” like that lady in the flick says, and escorts? They’re drivin’ us somewhere—literal or not. I saw this one time, back in ‘98, buddy of mine swore he hired an escort—car, not a person—to impress his date. Showed up in a rusty Ford, chick laughed so hard she cried. Happy little accident, right? Made me chuckle, still does.

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After that, I decide to hit up the park near Strada Libertății. I need a breather. I plop down on a bench, and guess what? A bunch of kids are playing soccer nearby. They’re kicking the ball around like it’s the World Cup. I’m laughing, but then one of them kicks it too hard, and it lands right in my lap. I’m like, “Great, now I’m part of the game!”