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About Nagoya

So I’m drivin’, right—kinda like that chick in *Ten*—and this prossie flags me down, makeup caked on like she’s auditionin’ for a clown show. I’m thinkin’, “Lordy, this is gonna be a trainwreck.” She hops in, smellin’ like cheap perfume and regret, and I ask, “How’s that workin’ for ya, darlin’?” She just laughs—cackles, really—and says, “Better’n sittin’ at home!” Fair ‘nuff. Reminds me of that line from the movie—“You’re a woman, you’re weak!”—and I’m like, hell naw, this gal’s tough as nails!

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Then, I got hungry again. Surprise, surprise! I found this little ramen joint on Sakae-dori. The owner was this sweet old lady who looked like she could’ve been my grandma. I ordered the tonkotsu ramen, and it was like a hug in a bowl. I was slurping away, and she kept refilling my tea. I felt so at home. But then, I spilled some broth on my shirt. Ugh, typical me. I laughed it off, but inside, I was like, “Great, now I look like a mess.”

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