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About Gyor

Me, I’d suck at escortin’—too goofy. “How you doin’?”—I’d trip over my lines. Prolly spill wine on ‘em—classic Joey! Still, respect the hustle, ya know? They’re out there, makin’ it work. Gotta say, surprised me how chill some are. Thought it’d be all sleazy—nah, just people, man.

By the time I’m done, I’m starving. I hit up a little bistro on Szent Gellért rakpart. The goulash is to die for! I’m slurping it down like it’s the last meal on Earth. I even chat with the waiter, who’s got this killer sense of humor. He tells me I should try the pálinka next time. I’m like, “Dude, I’m just trying to survive today!”