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And the night continues

07 Feb

So after our exciting bike ride to the beach just north of Sayulita we came back to the RV, showered and we’re off to find ourselves some entertainment for the night.  Our first stop are some $1.00 street side tacos.  Next is 2×1 fresh squeezed margaritas, and then 6 piece Mexican reggae band with a sax and trombone makes for an fun filled evening.  This is the latest we’ve stayed up in a long time.  The town is hopping with sounds of music and laughter.  There is loud conversations in several different languages happening within my circle of sound.  It’s fun to people watch as they strut around looking for that something special that will make their night especial.  Young girls in their very best “out on the town” dresses, some way too short for public display IMHO.  Young Mexican boys in there silly fauxhawk hairdos trying their best to impress the young ladies.  Children running around swinging from trees and chasing each other screeching like feral cats fighting.  Older dudes with gray hair wearing young man’s clothes and army hats slightly tilted try their best with the ladies, but in my limited observations have not advanced much beyond their 18 year old competition.  It’s a scene only to be seen late at night while enjoying my margarita at the edge of the town square.

We make the most of the night listening to some great music perched high above the band on a 3rd floor of Don Pedro’s bar in Sayulita, Mexico.  I make the mistake of making a move on the chessboard that the bartender has setup as I order another cold one and he immediately counters my move and it’s game on.  Silly me, I should know better than to challenge a person who basically gets paid to play chess and serves a few beers on the side.  I make a good go of it considering my state of mind, but he clobbers me within 10 minutes.  I saddle up to a good spot to view the band from above and see the bar tender makes quick work of one victim after another.

We stop off at a road side taco vendor for a late night snack when a couple of rich folks who obviously just flew in from the states cut in line in front of us holding out their plates like hungry beggars asking for more.  I’m not offended at all, since they’re so drunk and in desperate need of food that their brains can think of nothing else and I can empathize.  They’re definitely out of place here in there clean, pressed designer clothes, polished shoes and expensive jewelry.  The middle aged woman is tall slender and giving me such a look like I’m next on the menu.  I back away slowly.  Her companion looks like Paul McCartney’s early mod days, but not in a good way.  He has very distinctive British teeth and smells of cigarettes and stale beer.

Ah, it’s just another night on the town in a foreign country.

 
 

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