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Sometimes I’d be cruisin’, thinkin’ “Call it, friendo,” like Anton, ‘cept I’m just dodgin’ traffic, not chasin’ heads. Escorts gotta be sharp—cops, paparazzi, crazies—all up in their grill. I’d probs mess up, tho, hit the wrong turn, end up in some ditch. “This ain’t no country for old men,” I’d yell, laughin’ at my dumbass self. Love the rush, hate the stress—keeps ya on edge, ya feel me?

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So I dash over to the Itami Art Museum. I’m all hyped to see some cool art. But when I get there, it’s closed for renovations! Are you kidding me? I’m about to lose it. I mean, what’s the point of a museum if it’s closed?

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