Chapter 4: Waxwell

He'd spotted a few individuals wearing headphones while cycling, and no one seemed to concern themselves with helmets here. It wasn't much different from Bixi Bikes back home, but it still made him a bit nervous. When he set out the next morning, he thought, "Fuck it!" He made a quick playlist on Bandcamp, grabbed his new wireless cans and headed out.

The city was so vibrant in the daytime. There were people everywhere. He'd slept in. It was shortly after 9 in the morning and it was a weekday, so he kind of expected things to be a little quieter. Still, he found a nice spot for breakfast and some prime people-watching.

He wasted little time with his meal, downed a quick cup of coffee, hopped on his rental bike, and headed to the first of several shops: Waxwell Records.

He locked his bike at the nearby canal, among hundreds of others, and headed to Maxwell. The staff greeted him warmly and he nodded politely, removing his headphones. They were playing Aretha Franklin. Online reviews had promised a great selection of jazz, soul and hip hop. He felt right at home as he dug into the new releases section.