WARNING: NEIL TYPOS AHEAD...
Yeah I know. It’s been a minute since I’ve given you the punchline of my motorcycle adventure. Sorry. Duty called.
To rehash: me + motorcycle + hungry/thirsty bikers = ???
So there I was, sandwich churning in my stomach. Sick for sure. And they’re just staring at me. Especially the guys whose left leg weigh as much as I do.
“More beer?” I asked, trying not to sound sheepish. Trying to sound like Top or even Gaucho. I’m pretty sure my voice squeaked. So much for being one of the tough guys.
A middle-sized guy nudged a smaller guy. “Ask him,” middle-sized guy says.
“You ask him,” smaller guy says.
“Fine.” Middle-sized guy looks me square in the eye and reaches inside his pocket. I’m pretty sure I was close to running, if I hadn’t been surrounded. I somehow mustered the courage to suck in my fear and face whatever horror was coming.
He pulled it out slowly, probably relishing my unease.
It wasn’t a gun that came out. Not even a knife. Hell, I might’ve even expected a snake.
Nope to all three. Instead, with eyes suddenly questioning, middle-sized guy pulls out a phone and holds it out to me.
“You think you can show us how to open crypto accounts?”
I almost laughed when the air gushed from my lungs.
“Umm, sure,” I said, and the lesson commenced.
But that’s only the beginning. Next time I’ll tell you WHY they wanted crypto.
Stay tuned, Dear Diary,
Neil of the mighty Patels