Cubao Expo

We needed this night. None of us said it out loud but we all knew — my two close friends and I, meeting up by 5pm on a weeknight with no real agenda and no itinerary, just an unspoken agreement to be somewhere that wasn’t work.

Cubao Expo was the obvious answer.

No plans. Just a relax and forget.

It has that effect. The place is dark and specific — vintage tattoo shops, a retro game corner, drinking spots tucked between art spaces and small cafes. The crowd is the usual mix: students, people in their mid-20s, couples, the occasional foreigner, all coexisting in a space that feels stuck in the early 2000s on purpose. There is something disarming about that. Hard to stay tense in a place that does not take itself too seriously.

We started at Jeongwon, a Korean restaurant inside the Expo. Strawberry bingsu, kimbap, and dosirak — a little pricey but the kind of meal that makes you feel like the night is already going well before it has really started. By the time we finished I was full, slightly cold from the bingsu, and genuinely content for the first time that week.

Then Joseph and James spotted BlackMagic Tattoo.

The front of the shop had a row of cafe racer motorcycles on display — a strong aesthetic choice for a piercing parlor. We went in expecting a crowd and were met by a calm artist who was clearly practiced at putting first-timers at ease. I stayed quiet and watched how the night was going to unfold.

It unfolded quickly. Both of them decided to get their ears pierced on the spot — no deliberation, no “maybe next time,” just a clean decision made in about forty seconds. I found it genuinely amusing, the speed of it. One minute we were looking at motorcycles and the next my two friends were already in the chair.

The artist told them they’d need to clean the piercings every night. A six-week commitment for something decided in under a minute.

We spent our free tokens at the retro game corner next door. Tekken, 2K, Pacman, racing simulators — we stayed for almost an hour. There is something specifically good about playing games that nobody has updated since 2003. No patches, no battle passes, just a joystick and muscle memory from being eleven years old. The three of us were loud in a way we hadn’t been all week.

And then, as it always does at Cubao Expo, we ended up at FRED!.

FRED! is our go-to. Cocktails, sisig, calamares, the kind of ambient noise that makes conversation feel private even when it isn’t. We settled in and started where we usually start — old stories, current nonsense, plans for things we probably won’t follow through on.

Then I told them about the layoffs.

Several people from my team had been let go. A team we’d built real bonds with in under a year — shared jokes, outings outside work, the kind of dynamic that doesn’t form often and doesn’t feel replaceable when it’s gone. I hadn’t fully processed it until I said it out loud at that table.

Both of them listened. And then, without being asked, they each sent personal messages to the affected teammates that same night. Just checking in. The team received them well, and there is already talk of planning something together with whoever is still around.

We stayed at FRED! until the night ran out of reasons to keep us there. Stories, food, drinks, and one conversation that turned out lighter by the end than it started.

We headed back to the condo to sleep it off — three of us: one with plans to come back here soon, and two with freshly pierced ears they’d have to clean every night for the next six weeks. Small price, all things considered.