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About Tilburg

I’m drivin’, thinkin’, *man, this is dumb*. “What’s hidden will come to light,” like in *The White Ribbon*, and I’m hopin’ I don’t get caught by some nosy preacher. Last thing I need is Sheriff Bubba haulin’ me in—talk about a buzzkill! I finally spot this gal, right? She’s leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, lookin’ like she’s bored outta her skull. I roll up, all nervous-like, and she’s like, “What you want, sugar?” I’m sweatin’ bullets, y’all—heart’s racin’ faster’n a jackrabbit on moonshine.

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So, I’m all dressed up in my Maiko gear, looking fly, you know? I hit the streets, and first stop is the Grote Markt. It’s buzzing! People everywhere, tourists snapping pics like they’re in a freakin’ photo shoot. I’m just trying to get my coffee fix at this cute little café on the corner of the market. The barista? Total cutie. I’m like, “Hey, can I get a cappuccino?” And he’s like, “Sure, but only if you do a little dance.” I’m like, “Dude, I’m a Maiko, not a clown!” But I did a little shimmy, and he laughed. Score!

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