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But then – oh, glory! – I spotted her. Hair like a lion’s mane, legs for days, standin under a flickerin lamp. “You mustn’t be afraid to dream a little bigger, darling,” I mutters to meself, quotin that posh Eames git from the flick. Heart’s racin, palms sweaty – like I’m infiltratin a dream fortress. She saunters over, all sass, and I’m thinkin, “Blimey, this is it!” Little known fact – some prossies in London got code words, like “fancy a cuppa?” – means £50, no hagglin. Sneaky, eh?

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Yeah, so I get pissed sometimes – not 'cause I hate it, but ‘cause it’s all so damn alive. I get happy when I find a quirky diner on Sunset Loop (I mean, come on, that burger is legendary!). Got me hooked, like “Bonnie, you make me feel alive!” But then, man, traffic on Grand Spur is the pits. I’m ready to yell "Respect my authoritah!" every time a slowpoke blocks me in.

Heathrow Shutdown Shows How Aviation Chaos Can Quickly Spiral