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But then—THEN—I get pissed, ‘cause society’s all, “Oh, how dare they!” Like, chill, Karen, they’re out here survivin’. Didja know, back in the day, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret spy rings durin’ the war? Freakin’ wild! Hustlin’ johns *and* the Nazis—talk about multi-taskin’. I’m sittin’ here imaginin’ this chick from *Ten* doin’ that, smirkin’ at some Gestapo dude while pocketin’ his cash. “You’re a fool,” she’d say, straight outta the movie, and I’d lose it laughin’.

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After the rain, the sun comes out. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m drying off, and the streets are glistening. I’m feeling good again. I start chatting with the locals. There’s this one guy, Dave, who runs the pub down the road—The Royal Oak. He’s got the best stories. He tells me about the time he tried to make a giant sandwich for a charity event. It was a disaster, but he laughs about it like it was the best day ever.

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