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About Amsterdam

I ask her rate—fuck, it’s steep! “You’re chargin’ what?!” I’m mad, but she’s cool, “Quality costs, ET.” Fair. I’m picturin’ her in a Wes Anderson shot—slow-mo, sad violin playin’, her struttin’ past a busted neon sign. “I always wanted to be somebody,” she says, quotin’ Margot’s vibe. Deep, man. Makes me wonder—how’d she end up here? Prolly some tragic backstory, like Royal ditchin’ the fam.

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Next up was Sarah. She was a bit more chill, but then she starts talking about her driving test. “I’m gonna fail, I just know it!” I’m like, “Girl, you got this!” But inside, I’m thinking, “Please don’t crash my car.” We hit the road again, this time on de Heuvel. It’s a nice stretch, but she gets distracted by the windmills. I mean, they’re cool and all, but focus, Sarah!

Gloria Bladel Obituary -