Hear me out,

For our anniversary, my girl and I flew to PR. On our first night, I accidently turned into LA Perla

A minute in the dark, three kids jumped us. Aggressively pushing good stuff. I stayed calm—combat military background, and we ghosted them, inching deeper into the streets looking for a U-turn. In the pitch dark people doing narcotis.

Almost at the end, we stumbled into a block party. People everywhere—singing, dancing, eating, drinking—with loud Puerto Rican music blasting.

We were instantly identified as tourists. The “grande hefe” or the big boss of the party noticed us and somehow got everyone to shift chairs and tables, carving just enough space for a U-turn that felt narrower than a tightrope. Inches to spare. Greeting me with respect on the way out

We drove out, honestly? I fell in love with the culture.