Chapter 15

The bar’s not exactly jammed, but it’s bumpin’, and visual distractions are no problem. I could watch Milton behind the bar all night, for one thing. Could and have. Of the endless parade of sons and sons-in-law and cousins who adhere to a complicated schedule of cooking, waiting tables, tending bar, and lounging around seemingly designed to ensure a minimum of ten family members in the bar at any given time, Milton is not only the sexiest and shirt-openest, but also the most eager to give away free beer, which quickly cemented me as a devoted fan. He speaks a spectacularly colloquial brand of Spanish that prevents me from understanding more than ten percent of what he says, but that sure doesn’t stop him from recounting long and apparently hilarious stories every time he shakes my hand welcome or slaps my back goodbye.