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About Caguas

We head to this sketchy motel, and I’m struttin’ like, “This is our outpost!”—hell yeah, *Moonrise* style. She’s countin’ my crumpled bills, and I’m thinkin’, *I’m the king of this shit!* But then—BAM!—cops roll up, lights flashin’. “Aw, crap!” I yell, divin’ under the bed. She’s cool as hell, though, whisperin’, “They’re gone now, relax.” Saved my ass, and I’m like, “You’re my hero, lady!”—total Suzy savin’ Sam moment.

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We get to the plaza, and it’s packed! Music blasting, people dancing, food stalls everywhere. I’m talkin’ about lechón, tostones, the whole shebang. My stomach’s growling like a beast. I grab a plate of lechón, and it’s like heaven on a fork. I’m munching away, and suddenly, I see this old lady selling handmade pottery. I’m like, “Whoa, that’s my competition!” But her stuff is dope. I gotta give her props.

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