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Rewind—*Memento* style—I’m stalkin’ the streets, backwards memory vibes. “What’s her name?” I ask myself. Forgot already, classic me. Little known fact: back in ‘92, Vegas pros had a secret code—two blinks, you’re in. She blinked once, I panicked—did I miss it? Surprised me how slick she was, tho. Slipped me her number on a napkin—classy, huh? “You’re a mystery,” I say, quotin’ Nolan’s finest. She smirks, “Ain’t we all, doll?”

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After that, I decide to hit up the local pub. I need a drink after this madness. I walk in, and it’s packed with locals. They’re all laughin’ and tellin’ stories. I grab a beer, and this guy next to me starts talkin’ about the best fishing spots around. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a forester, not a fisherman!” But he’s so passionate, I can’t help but listen.

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