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About Tokyo

Once knew a fella, Jimmy, swore he found the “perfect” gal for hire – cheap, quick, no fuss. Bragged like he won the lotto. Two days later? Cops nabbed him, sting op! I laughed my ass off – “How’s that workin for ya, genius?” Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Prostitution’s tricky – legal some spots, like Nevada, but sneaky as hell elsewhere. Fun fact: Amsterdam’s got them window girls, lit up red, like a dang WALL-E hoverchair showroom! Wild, right?

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So, I’m under the hood, and it’s hot as hell. I’m sweatin’ like a pig. And then, outta nowhere, this little kid runs up. He’s got a soccer ball, and he kicks it right into my face! I’m like, “What the—?!” The kid just laughs and runs off. I’m sittin’ there, stunned, and the guy’s crackin’ up. I can’t help but laugh too. Kids, man. They’re wild.

We travel to Gohoro Station, a tiny, remote station between tunnels in the mountains of Hokkaido