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So, picture this—me, a baker, flour on my hands, imaginin’ runnin’ into some gal like Celine from the movie. “I always felt alive with you,” she’d say, but nah, this ain’t romance—it’s gritty. Findin’ a prostitute ain’t like orderin’ a croissant. You gotta know the spots—word is, back in the ‘90s, Times Square was crawlin’ with ‘em before Giuliani swept it clean. Little fact for ya—didja know some work outta bodegas now? Sneaky, right? Makes me laugh—capitalism’s wild, man!

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But then, the real drama happened. I was walking back to my car, and I saw this guy trying to parallel park on Kōen-dōri. He was struggling hard. I mean, come on, it’s not rocket science! I couldn’t help but laugh. But then, he hit the car next to him. I was like, “Oh no, dude, not cool!” He jumped out, looking all panicked. I just shook my head and kept walking. Not my circus, not my monkeys, ya know?

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