Thisaphone Sothiphakhak snores away in bed on a cold March morning. A sharp rap at the door jerks him awake. He blinks, rubs his eyes.
The knocking comes again, urgent.
Teace, as Thisaphone is known, slogs to the door and throws it open in nothing but boxers, half expecting a delivery. Immigration agents block the hallway. They eye him up and down, this lanky Laotian man with long, disheveled hair.
Behind him is an apartment strewn with dirty clothes and stacks of records. He lives alone above the Midtown Global Market, where he works in a cheese deli by day while burning nights at Club Jager as DJ Teace.More »