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As I made my way to the end of Columbus Heights and onto Main Street in Ocho Rios, I took in the scene around me. That Friday feeling was in full swing and I could hear the distant thud of reggae sound systems. Smoke rose into the night sky from dozens of food vendors as they started to serve up delicious plates of jerk meat, to the mix of tourists and locals milling about. Main Street is where it all happens in Ochi, as it’s known by Jamaicans. A beachside club and entertainment venue marks an unofficial ‘beginning’, continuing with shops, food spots, hotels, an entrance to the public beach, and ending with a busy local market by the clock tower. Whilst wolfing down jerk chicken and dumpling on a bench like nobody was watching, I became acutely aware of eyes on me. I glanced up to see a short, middle-aged Jamaican man, smiling at me with a labrador retriever at his side. He leant down to ask “yuh done wit dem chicken bone?”, pointing to his dog. I chuckled and promised my leftover bones to him, as he took a seat and introduced himself as Ashmel; a local event producer and promoter. We chatted a little and I told him of my plan to return to the most professional sounding, pier-side karaoke night that I’d ever been to, and had visited eight years previously in the area. With a post-jerk chicken glow, I said bye to Ashmel and handed him the promised bones, then floated towards the pier. There were security checks and a $10 cover charge, which I was too full of chicken to really question. I paid and walked through - only to realise there was no route to the pier from there, and that I was now in a somewhat cheesy looking beach bar event. From the giant speaker and stage set-up, I quickly realised this was not quite what I had planned for my first, jet-lagged night out in Jamaica. My thirst for rum punch was getting persistent though. The music started and the performers were giving 100% energy to the crowd, who needed no encouragement to get into the party mood. I stood transfixed, happier by the second that my blunder seemed to be panning out. Whilst swaying to the beat and taking in sand between my toes, I felt a light tap on my arm. Ashmel stood beaming at me with his arms wide open saying “Yuh made it!”. I explained I’d ended up there by accident, as he berated me for paying for my drink whilst his VIP wristband afforded him unlimited rum punch. “Yuh know Wayne Wonder?” he asked after we’d chatted about our backgrounds, made light fun of each others’ accents, and were topping up our rum punches. “Of course, he became really popular in the UK with that No Letting Go track when I was in college” I replied. I took a quick mental trip down memory lane, reminiscing about my teenage fun dancing to his songs. “Wan’ meet him?” Ashmel questioned with a mischievous grin. I quickly stopped sipping, and he cooly indicated with his head to follow him across the beach to the VIP decking area. After making some introductions Ashmel led me to the back, and there was Jamaican-born, music artist Wayne Wonder - with a full entourage, drink in one hand, and huge marijuana joint in the other. Ashmel walked over and greeted him, then beckoned me over to introduce us. I shook Wayne’s hand slowly and we began to make small talk, which got smaller after each time the joint reached his lips. Out of the blue he jumped up to leave, passed his drink to one of his entourage, and extended his hand out for me to shake. Five minutes later Wayne Wonder was being introduced on stage to the crowd going wild, as he performed his biggest hits. I scrambled to get my phone and capture the moment, which up until that point I’d been too overwhelmed to remember. I felt familiar beats reverberate through my chest, accompanied by delicious butterflies of excitement for what else was to come in Ocho Rios.