And after that, I have to tell you about this

My trip to Mexico was fantastic.  We got there late in the afternoon on Saturday, dropped our stuff off a the hotel (our room was not ready) and proceeded to pick up big, fat, cold beers and walk down the street with them.

We didn't even get in trouble for it until we were almost done with them.   Oops!

We walked around a lot that night, first to dinner (where we could look out over the ocean, in this second-floor, open air restaurant/bar); then through town, back to the hotel.  We went to a bar that was full of a frathouse vibe, so we left....and had street tacos in the middle of the night instead.   Later, as we sat on the beach with our beers, I was surprised we could still see the ocean, and surprised when my friend turned to me and said "Happy Birthday"-- it was well after midnight.

The next morning, she went for a run, and I went for coffee.  I met her on the beach, and collected all kinds of shells, then we gathered our stuff so we could check out, grab a bite, and shop some before heading back.  We were trying to get an early start as she promised my jailers I'd be home by like four or five.

They say that the best times are had when you don't plan them.   I'd have to say I agree.

We went back to the same place we'd eaten the night before as I was enamored of the chiliquiles; and the waiter recognized my friend (she goes to Mexico frequently) so he was chatting with us.  "Your boyfriend, from last time?  He works over there."  (He pointed across the street.)  The waiter leaned out the window and hollered across the street.  I saw a man turn towards us.  My friend looked over, waving, and although he is not her boyfriend anymore, she still wanted to see him, so I told her to go, content to just sit and look at the ocean, sipping my juice.

A few minutes later, she came back, and said that the restaurant/bar was empty, and that her friend, Javier, wanted us to come over there.  So off we went.

Like most times, when you go someplace empty, once you arrive, lots of other people come.  Javier was the only waiter over there, so he motioned for us to have a seat, and asked us what we wanted to drink.  I asked for a coke.  He brought me a Tecate.  "It's five o'clock somewhere," we joked as we squeezed in our limes.  Javier came and sat with us in between waiting on the other patrons (a couple, and a table with 2 men and a lady).   Suddenly, my friend grinned and told Javier, "She needs a caballito."  I'd never heard of a drink called a 'little horse' but I was game.  I panicked, initially, when I saw him pouring three shots; but relaxed when I realized it was one shot for each of us. 

One of the patrons at the other table looked at our shots with a quizzical, 'I-want-what-their-having' expression, and my friend said, "Oh, it's her birthday," as she gestured to me.   "Really?" the man responded, "It's his birthday too."  as he gestured to his tablemate.

After that, it was all over.  They ordered shots too, and us another round.  To toast our birthdays, of course.  I had another Tecate, because Javier set his down, and was busy, and why waste a cold one?  The guy who shared my birthday had a name I know and love --- Ben--- and he proved to be every bit as sociable as my Ben.  Pretty soon, he was introducing all of us to each other (more people had arrived), and the tequila and conversation was just flowing.  We ate, we socialized, we drank...and it was great fun.   I even remembered to text message Mr W that we were going to be later than I thought, early on in the festivities while I was still coherent.

The funny thing is that I didn't get toooo hammered.  I was keeping up, but I was eating too, and the atmosphere was festive, not "let's drink until we puke."

I was so excited that I got an entire place to start drinking in honor of my birthday.  Loved that!

Javier wound up driving back with us partway, as he was having a good time, and he hadn't seen my friend in a while.  

It was a really good time.  I really enjoyed speaking  and hearing all the Spanish, and it was really hard to leave.  I wish we could've stayed another day.  I got back home at eight.  I found myself longing for a big fat beer.....Monday morning.

But that's okay, because that means I will have to get back there that much sooner.

I may even take Mr W next time.

And surprisingly enough, he's game. 

(Yes, Remo, he knows that there's no Wendy's there.)