A few steps further and I arrive in a third dimension. Overweight, saggy tourists crowd large cobblestone streets, wandering in and out of cantinas advertising cheap buckets of beer and pitchers of margarita with all of the nuance of a New Orleans strip club. Selfie sticks compete for airspace like tiny swords, and vendors selling popcorn, tacos, fruit, and hotdogs move slowly around the bumbling throng of Aloha shirts. I pass a Starbucks, a burger shack, and a Hooters. This is a street of American things.