Arriving on our bikes in Ensenada, we found the hotel easy, just like the guidebook said.
Up through the main part of town.
Shopping, restaurants, motels, music and a bunch of old white people.
They weren’t supposed to be here.
But I saw those pastel britches, that purple hair, those cameras around the neck like a reluctant noose.
Tourism’s linger was something I thought I’d be away from.
Walking into our night’s host, I felt like a pawn of chess due to the white and black checkered floor.
It was pretty obnoxious, but at the same time I love how it fought with the pink walls, it left a charge in the air.
We showered quickly and by the time I was drying that feel good water off of me it was dark and we were hungry.
I put on the best I had – khaki pants, T-shirt, sandals.
Walking to find somewhere to eat, my head started hurting and it stung to think.
Both of us were too hungry to converse or decide where to eat and then he saw it.
A big Pizza Hut sign.
“Do you like pizza?” he asked.
“Well, yeah .”
“I not ate the Pizza Hut.”
I wanted to eat anywhere but a frickin’ Pizza Hut. I wanted tacos, burritos, sopes. I couldn’t kill his spirit or the joy in his face. So, I put on that Christmas morning face, usually reserved for bad gifts, and I pretended it was a great idea.
Upon entrance it seemed that we had stumbled on the high school hangout. There was a lot of that hand-holding and giggling and over-affection that we only do as young explorers in the event of first loves.
Although it lacked the foreign culture cuisine I had hoped for, the slices of pizza hit the spot with a good bit of accuracy.
“Pizza a lot of good,” Munie said.
I patted my belly and agreed with him.
“Ya wanna get some beer?” I asked.
“Yes, yes . beer, ohhh umm, yes.”
We left the Pizza Hut and grabbed a six-pack of Tecate at the corner store located down the street from our motel.
I walked through the chessboard lobby and disappeared into the pink walls, via the steps, all the while carrying a wrinkled paper bag, bland with its lack of vivid in this place of hue and bright.
The bag made that familiar crumble when I pulled the beer out.
Wadding the bag into a ball, I attempted to shoot it in the trashcan. I missed, like usual.
“I was never good at basketball,” I said to Munie.
“Ahh, yes. No basketball.” I don’t think he got it, but oh well.
Beer can out, handed one to Munie, pop my top, hear that fizz of carbonation, sip, live, layback on bed with a prop under my feet, live.
Munetoshi was going through his packs again while his beer sat on the coffee table.
He changed, and nonchalantly walking over to his beer, opens it and stares at it for a second.
Up comes his glance to me and he holds out his beer, we tap cans, in the chivalrous action of “cheers” that is done with all first beers of the night and shots also.
This cat then turns up his beer like he was simply turning over a random backyard stone.
A few bulges in the neck with those big swallows and he is finished, he exhales and says, “Birru is good.”
Meanwhile, back at my ranch, I am still two sips into my beverage.
He then pulls his second from the plastic sheath, pops the can’s top and glug, glug, glug.
Done. Beer number two is gone and he goes from number three, but waits and takes a few breaths before opening this one.
This time he does it with even more fury and slams the empty can down on its nightstand grave beside its dead brothers.
I still had not taken anther drink due to my preoccupation with this strange form of beer drinking.
Beer is actually enjoyable to me. I relish the taste, I sip, sometimes fast, but this was different.
“Do you want to go get more?” I asked, puzzled beyond a jigsaw’s ability.
“No, I, uhh . am done.”
He pulled his covers over him and rolled over. What?
The only chugging I had ever seen like that was just a precursor to further drinking exploits.
I mean chugging is not how you enjoy beers, chugging is not enjoyable, especially out of a can. But that was it for him, he was going to sleep.
I felt well endowed with my remaining beers, I just picked up my journal and wrote in it.
I heard nothing else from Munetoshi that night, with the exception of a few belches relieving his gaseous state.

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