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This one chick, red dress tighter than my stock portfolio, winks at me. I’m like—hell yea, jackpot! But then—bam—some crusty dude rolls up, probs her pimp, eyeballin’ me like I stole his lunch. Pissed me off, man! I’m yellin’ in my head, “I’m the client here, asshole!” Kept my cool tho—Gekko don’t flinch. “What can I do for you?” she purrs, straight outta Spielberg’s script. I’m thinkin’—damn, she’s smooth, like a robot lover programmed to please.

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After dinner, we wander around. Maniago at night is something else. The lights, the vibe, it’s magical. We hit up a gelato place on Via Cavour. I get pistachio, and it’s divine. But then, I drop it. Right on the ground. I’m standing there, staring at my fallen gelato like it’s a tragedy. Luca’s cracking up, and I’m just like, “Why, universe, why?”

Trail umpire earns provincial award