Me: This is kind of a rough neighbourhood, man. I’m pretty sure that’s a gang over there.
Jeff: That one guy has a tuba!
Me: Oh, well then we should probably go wherever they’re going.
In retrospect, following the gang of Mexicans simply because they had musical instruments was clearly a mistake.
Our first tip should have been the bouncer at the bar that they led us to who, when patting down me and my 6’7″ drinking companion, Jeff, seemed far too surprised when told we didn’t have any weapons on us. “Not even a knife?” he had said.
Inside we were quickly abandoned by the band who would shortly undertake one of the most terrible live performances I’ve ever seen and we were greeted by a sea of brown faces looking up at Jeff. Continue reading “Beer and Loathing: Pliny, dubstep, and hostile Mexicans”
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