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Now, me, I’d overengineer it. Prob’ly build a drone—call it "Hooker Hawk"—to scout ‘em out. Efficiency, baby! But real talk, it’s sketchy as hell. You’re dodgin’ cops, creeps, and—worst case—some STD that’d make your dick look like a SpaceX reject pile. Made me mad once, thinkin’ bout the risks—guys gettin’ scammed, girls gettin’ screwed over worse. System’s broken, yo. “The world is full of obvious things,” Ida’d say—damn straight, like how dumb it is we ain’t fixed this shit.

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, what? I thought we were done with that! I duck into a café on Vukovar, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, and the waiter’s like, “You want coffee?” I’m like, “Dude, I just had one!” But I order a hot chocolate instead. It’s rich and creamy, and I’m feelin’ all warm inside.

There Are Some Unspoken Rules When It Comes to Splitting the Check at a Restaurant