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About Nagoya

So picture this: I’m haulin freight, Tokyo-style, neon lights flashin, and I’m thinkin—where’s the damn cargo? Delayed again! Makes me wanna scream, “I’m too old for this crap!” But then—bam—some shady dude at the dock whispers bout “extra services.” I’m like, what? Prostitutes? In *this* biz? Turns out, cargo hubs—total hotbeds for it. Who knew? Not me, I’m just tryna get crates from A to B without losin my marbles.

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Then, I get a call from the city council. They wanna talk about the new rehabilitation program. I’m all for it, but the way they’re going about it? It’s like they’ve never stepped foot in Wake. They don’t get it! This city’s got its quirks. Like, did you know Wake has a famous hot spring? Yeah, it’s called “Yumoto.” I mean, who wouldn’t wanna chill in some hot water after a long day? But no, they’re all about “strict discipline.”

I've seen firsthand how wake-enhanced boating makes small Wisconsin lakes unsafe | Letters