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About Rotterdam

So, picture this—I’m cruisin’, late night, down some gritty street. Not sayin’ where, c’mon, I ain’t that dumb. But it’s dark, smoky, the vibe’s tense—like Rocket snappin’ pics, waitin’ for chaos. I’m thinkin’, “Joe, what’re ya doin’, man?” Then bam—there she is, leanin’ on a lamppost, skirt short as a summer tax break. I’m like, whoa, this ain’t no Hollywood movie, folks! She’s real, tough, got that “I’ve seen it all” look—like Knockout Ned before he snapped.

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After that, I’m fuming, right? I decide to take a stroll down de Kerkstraat to cool off. It’s a nice street, lined with those cute little houses. But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, really rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m cursing the weather gods, thinking, “Why me?!”

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