-^-for posterity-^-

the rain beat down on our face as we drove through traffic. we were following someone who was driving too fast. his tail light trailed in the distance. it was a firefly impossible to catch. we turned right. we turned onto a well beaten road. we turned right again. we drove over broken up bricks and old logs. we turned right again not thinking the road could get any worse. it was made of old concrete slabs that were a foot and a half thick. it was like driving on a semi-developed sidewalk.

we arrived at karaoke. the building was remote, surrounded only by mud, sand and stray dogs. it was someone’s house. there was one pool table out front with children playing. they were yelling and cursing in vietnamese.

we walked inside and sang songs and danced. everything was lively and beautiful. we sang an old abba song: ‘happy new year.’ we sang it with passion and fervor. the vietnamese students we were with sang too. they threw their heads back and pushed air past their vocal chords. it was august and we sang ‘happy new year.’

nothing seemed awkward and that’s what made it all so strange.