So, day 2 of vacation arrived (and I promise to devote substantially less time to sunscreen for the entire rest of my life than I did yesterday afternoon). My incredibly strange sunburn had put the kibosh on normal vacation activities, such as swimming, searching for buried treasure, and making life-sized replicas of the Parthenon from sand and seagull feathers. In fact, I could only summon the strength for one activity, a trip to the only place in the world where I belong. A place where I hope to have a statue erected upon my death of me riding a big, fat burro. A place where, sometime very soon, I see myself getting married to a hooker, then freaking out and trying to obtain an annullment, only to get stabbed in the eye during a disagreement at the notary's office. For the weinerbiscuits in the audience, I'm talking about the M-E-X-I-C-O.
The family was so down with this idea, they didn't even wait for me to bring it up. Before I knew it, we were packed into the rented Taurus, jamming out to a playlist of songs about Mexico on an MP3 player, headed for a bordertown called Nuevo Progresso. In keeping with my usual trips to Mexico, my pockets were filled with one dollar bills, fruit roll ups, and emergency rations of Penicillin. As soon as I could see the international bridge, I unbuckled my seatbelt, tucked myself into a ball, then opened the door and rolled out. When I regained consciousness, I found my family members had carried me across the border. The trip was shaping up to be a goodie.
Nuevo Progresso is a very small bordertown, mainly there so people can take cheap prescriptions back to America. As an old veteran of Nuevo Laredo, I almost went into shock when I realized that no shady characters were going to come up to me and ask if I were interested in getting drunk and then having sex with a midget. In order to acclimate, I needed some alcohol. I unleashed my war cry and ran towards the nearest bar, family members in tow.
It was called Arturo's, and it was everything a bar should be. It was dark and velvety, with everyone dressed in tuxedos. In the corner, a man played the piano. If it hadn't been for the leper in the bathroom, I would've thought I'd been transported to Monte Carlo. At first, I drank like a reality tv star, quickly and loudly, trying to inspire my family to do the same. Roughly 30 seconds later, I realized they needed no pointers from me. With Raul the bartender, we socked it to Arturo's for a good while before we succumbed to the grumbly bellies. To paraphrase Napoleon, an army of awesomeness travels on its stomach.
We lurched from the cool confines of Arturo's back to the streets, where it was as hot as the devil's spaceheater. I decided I would take the lead on this one and locate someplace great. Through the use of several Streetfighter 2 style dragonpunches, I cleared a path for us down the sidewalk. After a few moments of aimless, alcohol inspired wandering, I found myself in front of a place called La Opera Bar.
"Do you have food," I asked the guy at the front door man.
"Mmmmmm!" he said in response.
Oh yes, we were going inside this place.
Tomorrow: La Opera Bar gets crowned as the greatest place in history. I actually get to the part of the story about the hat and Darth Vader.
Posted by Cody at July 14, 2004 6:35 PM