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Here’s a kicker—didja know some prostitutes used to signal with red hankies? True story! Old-timey crap! I’m picturin’ her wavin’ one, and I’m yellin’, “Buy me some freakin’ nachos first!” She’s like, “Twenty bucks, kid.” TWENTY?! I’m ragin’—“That’s outrageous!” But I’m broke, so I’m barterin’ like, “How ‘bout a WALL-E DVD?” She’s not impressed. Screw her, man!

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They stood in groups of two or three along the promenade of the Boulevard de la Villette at night; Chinese women of indeterminate age dressed like schoolmarms.

Alright, so picture this: downtown Belleville bustles on Main St. and Broadway. I’ve seen all sorts of characters—locals hustlin’ and bustlin’, tourists gawkin’, and even a stray cat or two loungin’ on a stoop. I remember one time—I was chillin’ near Collins Park (yep, that quaint green spot off Maple Ave, where the river gently hums—hello, the Mississippi in the distance!)—and I stumbled upon a spontaneous block party. I was like, “Joy, pure joy! I am burdend with glorious purpose,” I mean, really!

Final unofficial results: Belleville mayor, city clerk and city council seats