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Machitos and a Story....

J Town is a city filled with stories to tell. Every person has a story relating to a day, a friend, a street, or even a place they went to on a seemingly lonely Saturday night, when trying to forget the heartaches that life often offers you just to remind you that you're still alive, that nothing's changed and that you still have to fight to hold on.

In my case, this happened yesterday. It was a Saturday night and I made plans with my friend Angie, to go out and talk about recent events in both our lives. The date was set to begin at her house, and then we would go to Starbucks to ponder and talk about how things should happen for a reason --- or how we both want to believe the same thing just to keep ourselves from going coo coo bananas about it. So, off to Starbucks we went. Angie brought along her laptop because she wanted to show me some stuff. After a while of talking and gossiping about eachother's lives, she looks at me and says, "I really want a beer."

Now, for those of you who know Angie, this "I really want a beer" is something you will rarely hear coming from her, since she is not a beer person. She's more of a Tequila girl. So, she wanted a beer, I figure, blues need to get out. I told her, hey, since we're already in Misiones Mall, let's go to Sanborn's and have a brewsky. Turns out, Sanborn's bar was closed due to some private party. After thinking a bit, I told her we would go to Los Colorines.

I thought about Mr Larios and his rambling talks whenever we went to this place. And deep down inside I knew I had to go there, for some odd reason of fate. So we get there, it's empty as ever, get inside and order a beer. The Colorines is a bar that by the looks of it could be that it was once one of the high-class joints in town. Now, it's cheesy. But it's a good place to drink one and talk. We sat at the bar and had two beers each. We drank to Mr Larios and his safe return home. We drank to Juarez and its streets. We drank to our lives and how pathetic their existence seemed at this point. We analyzed ye old question, "Did you even envision yourself at this point in your life, doing this exact thing...?" We both realized that the dreams of the youth had long gone and now all we had left were the reminiscence of it all.

We talked about the yesteryears, we talked about the events of today, and we even considered a little bit of the future. We talked about our dreams, and projects, and how after all we both have gone through we're still friends... and then the beer was gone and it was time to head out. On the way out, I asked her what she wanted to eat. She said "something greasy... so greasy you say OH MY GOD! That's Disgusting!" "So greasy you actually say, are you gonna eat that? greasy?" I asked. The answer was yes. So, what is to eat that covers those characteristics? You guessed it! Machitos. And there is no other place in Juarez to eat machitos than those served on the back of a van, in front of the Mercado Cuesta, down at the Carretera.


They have been serving machitos for 40-some years. When we arrived there there were three men eating machitos, drunk as sailors they were. When we got there there was this elaborated drunken talk about how good the machitos were, and how good the machitos were, and how far they had to come to eat the good machitos because how good the machitos were, and we have been eating gorditas all day, two of them each, oh but the machitos are better... how good the machitos were. We ordered two to eat there and continued to listen to the rambling of these three men, drunk out of their minds, commenting on the machitos and the obvious hitting on the Angie person and myself. So, after, the bill came. 150 pesos, please. 150?! Are you charging us what the ladies are eating? They asked. And kept insisting on that he was charging that much because he was charging mine and angie's machitos... so, after they left. we could laugh. Then, the guy starts telling us the story on how he got started selling his machitos and how people come from far and beyond to eat them (even from El Paso). Then, about these two cousins he had, that they both married butt-ugly women and with lotz of cash and how one of them just couldn't handle it and went in to the business and got shot and the other one that married witha very ugly woman but she was loaded so he is a trophy husband and how machitos are made and how it's all in the cooking and the warming... After we paid and left, Angie said, "and you wanted to eat them in the car!" Good machitos, good story... even a show from three drunken guys.

Machitos and a story. Beats the heck out of staying home and pondering about how life runs away from you, doesn't it?

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