Cinco de Mayo

Six thirty in the evening yesterday and I noticed that I didn't smell dinner cooking. I pulled myself out of the big fluffy chair and went into the bedroom to ask Mark about it.

            "I didn't feel like cooking tonight. Can we go up to Rumors and get burgers and a drink instead?"
Rumors is a bar here in town that has a six dollar burger special on Monday's. It really is a good deal because the burgers are big and juicy and they come with fries, so I quickly agreed. As Mark pulled into the parking lot of Rumors it was obvious that there were no spaces to be had, not even the cripple parking space was open.

            "Go around the block and try the street." I instructed.

After three trips around the block and non-stop whining from Mark about me telling him how to drive, we finally spotted a place on the street one block away.

            "Sonofabitch," Mark whined "It's so damn far from the bar."

Despite the distance we managed to make our way to Rumors. As we walked up to the door and I saw the large crowd, I suddenly realized something.

            "Crap, I forgot. It's Mexican Saint Patrick's day today. This place is packed."

And it was, with drunken gay men and lesbians, many running around in sombreros and serapes. I am not a fan of drinking with amateurs. It isn't very pleasant, and yesterday was no exception. There were a lot of sloppy drunks wandering around. No sooner had we sat down at the bar when one drunk came stumbling by with another drunk perched upon his shoulders. Outside in the parking lot a Mariachi band was wailing away. It was very busy and there was a bit of a wait for service at the bar, but the bartender finally came and took our order.

            "We'll have two burgers with cheddar cheese."
            "And to drink?" The bartender asked.
 I thought for a moment and then opted not to have my usual vodka. 
            "Mark will have a Margarita. I'll have a Corona beer...  no lime please."

Don't ever say that I don't get into the spirit of the occasion.