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But then—happy vibes! Some escorts are total bosses. Little-known fact: back in the ‘90s, this one chick in Vegas ran an escort empire, legit had a Rolodex of CEOs thicker than my glasses. She’d giggle, “I don’t rent my body, I rent my time,” like she’s Amélie droppin’ wisdom bombs—“life’s too short to fold fitted sheets!” Love that hustle. Surprised me how smart some of these folks are—playin’ the game while the rest of us schlubs are stuck at 9-to-5s.

Then there’s Mercy Lane. Its crooked, old bricks, and local legends swear that on quiet nights you can hear whispers, almost like the wind reciting lines from Brokeback Mountain – “I wish I knew how to quit you…” Too deep, right? I always get chills. Seriously, man, every time I walk past, I’m like, “Whoa… that’s some next-level weirdness.”