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We haggle—$50, $60, whatever—she’s actin’ like she’s doin’ me a favor. Fun fact: in Amsterdam, they got unions for this shit. Here? It’s a free-for-all, and I’m dodgin’ cops like I dodge clinic duty. She’s all, “No kissing,” and I’m like, “Fine, I’m not Ritchie anyway.” *Tenenbaums* ref, duh—nobody gets it. Makes me happy, tho, ‘cause I’m a smug prick. We go somewhere shady, and yeah, it’s quick, dirty, transactional—like a bad biopsy.

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Then, I head over to the promenade. You know, the one that runs along the beach? It’s packed with people. Families, couples, kids running around like they own the place. I’m just trying to enjoy my day when I hear this loud commotion. Turns out, some guy was trying to impress his girlfriend by juggling oranges. Spoiler alert: he dropped them. Like, all over the place. I couldn’t help but laugh. I mean, come on! Who juggles oranges at the beach?

Herzliya top, Bat Yam bottom for quality of life