Memories of a (Mexican) bar: Shit behind the bar.

So, the other week I was doing mop-up with some bars that had flipped way to the northwest of the city, when I found a new bar, then a bar that had been run by Balkan mafiosi (or so it seemed) but had since gotten a(n Irish) name and a (Mexican) clientele.

An obese hispanic woman was by the DJ board to the left of the pool table when I came in, and I sat down at the relatively full bar, which was made of a soulless formica.

At the bar itself, up to the right of it, was a small plywood piece painted red, with uneven black stick-on letters saying -

NO HAY CREDITO 

- that is, "NO CREDIT."

To the immediate right of that sign, was this gigantic crucifix (probably around two feet, at least).

Before I left, I tried to talk in Spanish with the bartendress about the "NO CREDIT" sign, which she affirmed.

"Pero que haceria el Senor?", I was like ("But what would the Lord do?").

Only, I hope I said what I meant, since I'm shaky on contrafactual constructions, let alone the subjunctive.