I needed a miracle. What I got was a cocky, late-as-hell comedian with too many jokes and a smile that could ruin lives. Sharing a cross-country road trip with Anthony Bronson wasn’t part of my five-year plan, but when a once-in-a-lifetime job interview lands on the opposite coast and my bank account laughs in my face, desperate times call for cocky measures. He’s messy where I’m meticulous. Loud where I’m quiet. And somehow, in between pit stops, comedy clubs, and too many shared hotel beds… he starts to feel like home. This was supposed to be a ride. Just a ride. So, why does it feel like fate?