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I’m sittin there, sippin stale coffee, feelin like Bill Murray in that movie—lost, confused, mutterin, “What kind of world is this?” Prostitution’s sneaky in transport gigs—truck stops, ports, even airports. Little known fact: some drivers, they get lonely, right? Long hauls, no sleep, and boom—someone’s knockin on the cab window. “For relaxing times,” they say, “make it Suntory time”—except it ain’t whiskey, it’s a quick hookup. I’m laughin, but I’m pissed—focus on the road, idiots!

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After that, I’m feelin’ good again. I hit up the local market on Calle Betances. Fresh fruits, handmade crafts, you name it. I grab some mangos and a coconut. The vendor’s super chill, tells me about the best spots in Cabo Rojo. I’m takin’ notes like I’m on a mission.

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