Gone are the days when the perfect weekend formula was simple: a borrowed car, a friend who knew every hidden gem in Naivasha, and just enough money for a boti.
That combo was all you needed to forget the horrors of adulting, at least until Monday dragged you back. In my glory days, Friday evenings meant club-hopping through Westlands and Nairobi West, hunting for whichever spot was cool that week.
