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But arrgh, the stench o’ greed – them fins again! Some ports, they hack ‘em off, leave her sinkin’. Boils me blood, it does – worse’n a navy frigate on me tail. She’s a queen, not chum! An’ here’s a yarn – old whalers thought whores were omens, bringin’ storms. Rubbish, says I – she’s just swimmin’, mindin’ her own. Surprised me, that tale – folk be daft as a barrel o’ eels.

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But then, my phone buzzes again. It’s another client. They’re having a meltdown over a claim. I’m like, “Can’t a guy catch a break?” I’m trying to explain things while the café’s getting busier, and I’m just losing my mind. I mean, how many times can I say, “It’s in the fine print!” before I lose it?

Italy Awaits Why Montepeli, Siena, Brescia, and Alberobello Are the Perfect Alternatives to Overcrowded Tourist Spots?