What almost slipped down memory lane as a heavy thought turned out to be not only one of the best days of my life — but also the reason I unknowingly drank three cups of coffee in a row at a party earlier today. Now I know why: so I wouldn’t sleep, so I’d turn on my disco ball, and write.

If I only knew that I’d be writing, years later, about the day I got to the Notting Hill police station, I would have tchin-tchined the heaven out of everyone at the station with those umbrella drinks. Supposedly, everyone who walks into a London police station is greeted with a cocktail at the door. Thank you, stars, for transforming that day into this! A mystical unfolding of a Sunday I will remember forever.

Two of my brother’s former high school classmates, now living in London, have revived the band they started back in school. Playing in the band is what they do in their free time. One of them is the owner of the coolest guitar shop the Gallagher brothers are frequent customers of. The other one is the chef of a chic, top secret, hence popular place for breakfast I had the juiciest salmon eggs Benedict of my life at, on the Sunday from above.

The band used to be a Beatles tribute. Now, they make their own music, alongside the drummer of Groove Armada. The three of them rehearse on Sundays out of passion. And it’s on the aforementioned Sunday that my brother and I joined them, in the tiny basement of a hidden bar in Soho very few knew about. The two of us sat on the floor and took it all in. The three of them, basically, rocked the basement of the bar Amy Winehouse used to hang out in and sing. For fun and pleasure.

I asked a bartender what she was like. I knew, but hearing someone who knew her speak about her was as touching as I’d anticipated. She was just so sweet…

Listening to loud music I adore has run through my veins for as long as I can remember. I don’t care — and I care to the core, all at once. It’s magic! 

We left the bar in time to catch the last tube, from somewhere to somewhere, and head home. I’ll never forget the strong wind connecting the cars of the subway — that felt like a skyrocket for a hot minute — and us all, as a band somehow, being launched into space. We were all standing, holding on to the bars, slightly stretching, our bodies were naturally going with the flow at high speed, just like in a video, talking, not talking, watching, hair tossing. A genuine cheer had been swirling our souls all day long. We had a blast. It was the real deal. It felt like home.

My brother’s friends knew me from when I was a kid, from when they used to come to our house for the parties my brother used to throw — the parties our parents knew nothing about.

My phone had been stolen in the morning of the same day. A splendid sunny spring Sunday in the diaphanous air of London. Bright! My brother was living there at the time. We’d been walking for hours, soaking everything in, when — just as I was taking a picture — my phone was stolen right out of my hands by a ninja on a bike. I’d never seen my brother running like the ninja that he was and is, but a bike was involved for a reason in the stream. My phone really needed to go, oh.

I must’ve paid too much attention to my phone that morning and the universe intervened. Just like it always does when we’re off course. Tapped my shoulder, said Hey! and, suddenly, There was nothing left for me to do but completely immerse myself in the day. Be aware. Amplify all of my senses. Live every moment. Enjoy everything. The best!

That day likely became so special to me precisely because I had no phone to distract me — no one outside the small group I was with to draw my attention away. I like that s*it. We were in a band for a day. Felt Amy in a mysterious way. We might’ve gone to the police station, but those umbrella drinks were just dying to meet us I guess.

One coffee after another is no coincidence, either. It’s my way into enjoying the lights reflected everywhere by the disco ball, slowly spinning, at home, right now. And being here. Just being.

Hey, hey!