I can only predict, with impressive accuracy, that the nouveau rich from Higüey, with their freshly-done hair and manicures, will don their expensive tennis shoes (some of the females their hooker heels) and oversize purses (Lululemon Everywhere Belt Bag hasn't reached the Dominican shores yet), and head east to Starbucks, via la Autopista del Coral, where they'll order (out loud) a *venti chai latté with soy milk (I like mine at 201° F) in their KLK Spanish sprinkled with a few English words so as to impress the super-duper important staff and other patrons, then demand a table that affords the best view of the incoming customers, whip out their recently purchased MacBook, while placing a call on their iPhone Pro Max 14 to their friends, in order to let them know where they are:
<<Dime a ve', mi'ja, ya llegué a EtaLbó, juno (you know). Tú no quisi'te vení, juno, pero tú te lo pielde, juno>>.
*(I DO NOT hate Starbucks, as evidenced by my preferred drink. I only complain (meekly and apologetic) when I can sense they didn't heat it up to my ideal temperature: "Excuse me, SIR, I think the cup may have cooled it off just a bit, but that tastes like 199°. I wonder if the AC may have something to do with it."))