...must always be enveloped in a moment when you DECIDE that it is TIME for a margarita. We were under tremendous pressure to finish an almost insurmountable mountain waiting for us back at the office. Our intention had been to steal away for a few precious moments and eat a meal like two human beings (as opposed to our usual posture; primitive hominids crouched furtively over commissary gruel- shoveling ham fisted fork-fulls into our gaping holes while glancing nervously over our shoulders at the looming predatory wall clock ).
Not today. We walked into La Isla Bonita fully intending to eat within the bounds of our servitude- right up to the moment those flesh and blood Mariachi's rolled up to our stressed out, empty carcasses and started pouring open hearted, full throated human song into our ears . It was all there- love, hope, loss and beauty and not one paltry line about 'trabajo' as anything other than a hurdle to a stark raving romantic life actually being lived. We stared at each other and shared the kind of smile that must have looked like neither one of us had ever done it before.
'We'll take two margaritas, please....made with your very best tequila.'
Two turned into two more and guess what?. The sky had not fallen to the ground when we returned much later than we should have. Our trabajo did not own us the rest of that day. We finished our work with the perfect balance of 'fuck it' and pleasurably suppressed laughter.
We gringos, we always have to be dragged into the good parts of life...
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