No mas

I tried to get some more ceviche late last night. It was gone. Apparently it was for "the game." Which game I'm not sure. But the good money is on Mexico and futbol. The man said there may be some chicken soup tomorrow. He made a big point that it would not be supermarket chicken but rather chicken from the live poultry place on 31st St., but he didn't sound too confident about it being there at all.

Ali and I had some tacos instead. After that we went across the street to the Mexican bar that, despite being on my corner, I've never been in before. Why is that? Well, I've never been in there, but I somehow sensed it's the kind of place where, you know, you can treat the friendly if slightly overweight scantily-clad hispanic women to a beer for $14. For the ladies, small beers are also available for the bargain price of $7. Your beers cost $5. Dances to tunes from the Mexican juke box cost $2. It was kind of charming, in an immigrant working-man kind of way. Not being an immigrant, I let Ali do most of the talking. Such are my adventures when the wife is out of town...

I love Astoria. After work, I met Ali at an Egyptian sheesha joint. Then we went across the street to the Slovakian private bar. Then we walked back to 36th Ave and had Tacos and beer at the Mexican bodega. Followed by a final drink at the, er, working man's (and working ladies') bar.