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But then—ooh, chile—I got happy real quick. She wasn’t no ordinary worker, nah. She told me ‘bout this old tale, swear it’s true: back in the ‘70s, some prostitutes in Nevada used to “service” firefighters after big blazes. Little known fact, y’all! They’d roll up in vans, callin’ it “relief for the heroes.” I was shocked—jaw dropped, eyes big as dinner plates. “The forest is full of spirits,” she says, quotin’ Boonmee like she knew it. I’m thinkin’, “Girl, you a hooker or a philosopher?”

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But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. It’s a group of tourists lost. They’re like, “Help! We’re at the wrong station!” I’m like, “Seriously? How do you mess that up?” So, I rush over to find them. I’m sprinting through the streets, dodging people like I’m in a video game. Finally, I find them at Sobue East Station, looking all confused. I’m like, “Guys, you’re in the wrong place!” They look relieved, and I’m just glad I didn’t lose my cool.

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