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So, findin’ one? Easy as pie, darlin’! You just mosey down where the lights flicker, them seedy spots nobody admits goin’ to. Little known fact: back in Nashville, they say some gals worked Printer’s Alley—singers by day, sinners by night! Ain’t that a hoot? I’d be all nervous, y’all, gigglin’ like a fool, probly trip over my own boots tryna look cool. “Who’s got the guts?” I’d mutter, quotin’ that movie, ‘cause it takes some nerve, right?

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud honking. I look up, and it’s a bunch of cyclists zooming by on Rue des Alliés. Like, chill, guys! It’s not the Tour de France! I’m just trying to enjoy my squirrel moment here. But nah, they’re all decked out in spandex, looking like they own the road. I’m over here in my coffee-stained shirt, feeling like a total loser.

Emergency services: Six injured across several traffic accidents on Friday evening