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So, I knew this chick once—Candy, real name prolly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked downtown, fishnets ripped, heels clickin’ like a damn metronome. Greed is good, man—she’d hustle harder than me on Wall Street, swear to God. Pulled in $500 a night, cash, no taxes, Uncle Sam can suck it. Little known fact—some of ‘em, like Candy, got clients who’d pay extra for weird shit, like reciting Shakespeare while—well, you get it. Made me laugh my ass off when she told me, “To be or not to be,” mid-grind. Hilarious, right?

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We hit the Neretva River. It’s gorgeous, man. The water’s all sparkly, and the sun’s shining. I’m feelin’ good. But then, outta nowhere, this group of tourists shows up. They’re loud, taking selfies, and blocking the whole path. I’m like, “C’mon, people! This ain’t a photo studio!”

Neretva Lađa Boat From Metković Heads to New York