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So, I roll down the window—curious, slow, Larry style. “Hey, darlin’, what’s the deal?” She smirks, leans in, says, “What you lookin’ for, pops?” Pops! Me! I’m laughin’—she’s got sass. I’m not buyin’, just talkin’, diggin’ for the scoop. She tells me—$50 for a quickie, $100 for more. Cash up front, no cards. I’m like, “What, no Venmo?” She rolls her eyes—guess I’m old-school. But here’s a tidbit—did ya know some of these gals use burner phones? Like drug dealers! Keeps it secret, safe. Blew my mind—high-tech hookin’!

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Then I hit up the market on the Markt. Man, the smell of fresh stroopwafels hit me like a freight train. I had to get one. I mean, who can resist that? I’m munching away, and this lady next to me is haggling over some cheese. Like, lady, it’s cheese, not gold! But she’s all serious, and I’m just there, stuffing my face.

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