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I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

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I’m out there, tryin’ to get this thing up in the air. But it’s a disaster! The wind’s all over the place, and I’m tangled up like a pretzel. People are laughin’ at me, and I’m just like, “Yeah, I meant to do this!” Finally, I get it up, and it’s flyin’ high! I’m feelin’ like a kid again.

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