Bar experiences: Mexican bar near city limits.

A few weeks ago I went to this Mexican bar out by western city limits.

I had seen the place a few months before, but it was closed the day I was there, so I always had it in my head to come back.

The place had a Latina-American bartender, a few Latin patrons (including a very drunk [Mexican] guy who was telling me how much he likes marathons, and he's doing one this year, and he's fifty), and this white due with a goatee and a shaved head and lots of tatts, who was dressed in a black white beater and seemed hepped up (on coke?) and was walking in and out of the bar a lot and was very abrupt and unrealizing in his interactions with me and the bartender, who I was talking with.

At one point, he interrupted us to give me his card, asking me if I knew anyone who needed plumbing.

Somehow, too, he told me a bit of his bio, which was that he grew up in LA and "Mexicans are my people", and he moved out to the city from there b/c he got a 3rd strike with a DUI and was facing serious jailtime, after already having spent 14 years in prison.

Last time he was stopped by 3 cops, it was here in the city, and they pegged him as a skinhead.

"We're Aryan Nation too," the 2 (white) cops told him.

"Really?", I was like.

"No," he said, "They were fucking with me, they had me pegged as a skinhead.  Then they said they were sorry but the black guy had to write the ticket."