I’m sitting at a bar wearing a dressing gown, listening to a lime green-clad Mexican band singing La Bamba. I’m surrounded by dozens of similarly dressed Japanese, most of whom are smiling and clapping along as if this is a perfectly normal way to spend a Friday night.
It sounds like the sort of bizarre dream brought on by too much cheese before bed. What’s stranger still is I’m nowhere near Mexico and despite La Bamba being one of my least favourite songs, I’m smiling and clapping along, too.
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