So I went to San Antonio last night, which is something I hadn’t done in a while... I’m really hangin’ more in Austin nowadays, but hey… I had a date-kinda-thing, and wanted to experience the abundance of Latin culture that San Antonio provides.

Boy was there an abundance. I decided to eat at this kinda tourist-trap Mexican place. The name of the place is not important… we shall refer to it as The Place Of Many Mariachis.

I’m not just talking about a few old men with guitars and maracas. Oh no… We’re talking a ten piece musical extravaganza of mariachi goodness. It was nuts. My dining companion and I were not ever able to get an accurate count of the musicians, because it kept changing. We counted a total of five violins, three trumpets, a variety of stringed guitar-like things, and of course, lots of old men with black hair dye singing in that distinctive vibrato. If you like that sort of thing, it was off tha hook, Paco!

I wouldn’t be as put out by the whole thing if the people at the table immediately beside ours hadn’t been totally in love with the whole Mexicans-at-your-table-with-trumpets thing. Like, everytime they walked by, they played two songs for this table.

Yep. I spent my whole dinner looking at a fat Mexican ass in tight pants. His ass sort of clinched every time he tongued, if you really want to know. (I promise I won’t use “ass” and “tongued” in the same sentence, ever again).

I had a good time, though, and of course, I ordered the Insane Sizzling Plater Of Cooked Flesh. There was so much meat on this plate! There was sausage, chicken, beef fajita, ribs, and maybe even a goat or something. I swear to Budda (whom I’m beginning to look like) I have never, ever eaten so much meat in one sitting before.

I mean, lately. Within the past few months. Weeks. Days? OH HELL. So I had a big meal. Sue me.

I blame the mariachis.