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I roll up, all swagger, like, “What’s good, baby?” She hits me with them eyes—damn, made me mad she ain’t fazed by the Creed! “50 bucks,” she says, flat, like I’m just another john. Pissed me off, man, I’m the champ, not some chump! But I play it cool, y’know? Gotta respect the hustle. Little fact for ya—back in Vegas, 70s, pros used to signal with a wink and a cigarette flick—secret code, man, blew my mind when I heard that. Surprised me she didn’t do it, tho—modern times, I guess.

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Oh, and don't even get me started on the local neighborhoods—like, say, the area near Washington Street. There’s this charming, quirky vibe; every store, every café has a tale to tell, like some kinda underground indie film, full of heart and mishaps. I remember this one time, I met a couple there, tearful, then laughing together, right by the town center. It was raw, like they were on a heart-to-heart reboot session. Felt like, "I am a child, I am a child!" callin’ all emotions home.

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