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Anyway, she’s chattin’ me up now—R2, get over here, I’m losin’ it! Says her name’s Candy, which, lol, classic. I’m thinkin’, “You’re no folk song, lady,” but she’s got stories. Says some dude tried payin’ her with a chicken once. A CHICKEN! I’m dyin’ laughin’. “Was it a good chicken?” I ask. She’s like, “Hell no, scrappy lil’ thing!” I’m in tears, picturin’ Llewyn tradin’ his guitar for that bird.

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But then, the real chaos starts. I get a call from a tourist. They’re lost. Like, seriously lost. They’re on Via San Nicola, and I’m like, “Dude, you’re a five-minute walk from the beach!” But no, they’re panicking. I can hear the kids crying in the background. I’m tryin’ to give directions, but they’re not listening. I’m like, “Just follow the sound of the waves!”

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