THE SECRET JOURNAL OF NEIL PATEL #14

WARNING: NEIL TYPOS AHEAD...

​Entry #14
​
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