I was between Tito’s and Jupiter, having finished a huge and tasty meal of the Tex-Mex variety, facing Rosario’s, not exactly crossroads in life, just a junction where there’s really tasty cuisine.

A guy, white guy, looks like a tourist, well, I look like a tourist, too, and I am, but that’s not the point. He was “tourist” in a tourist-way.

“Hey,” he paused. He was wearing casual slacks, comfortable and casual footwear, loose, quiet shirt, pedaling a mini-bike. Full size for the seat and handlebars, but the wheels were only about six or eight inches in diameter. Probably a satellite or excursion vehicle, “Can you tell me where to get a hamburger?”

I pulled the earphones out, always willing to help a distraught tourist; although, my directions would be suspect at best. And at worst? Cut from whole bolts of fantasy, bearing no relation to consensual reality. The very fabric of existence spun from the airy confines of my mind.

I pointed across the street, “Mexican?”

Tourist guy: “Had it for dinner last night.”

Me: “Tito’s, just down the road, Rosario’s, across the street, El Mirador….”

Thinking about it, later, the cardinal directions, with Taco Haven, just down the street. Quartered by quality dining.

“No,” he said, “had it last night, have it again tonight, I just want a hamburger.”

“What’s wrong with Mexican food, for every meal?”

He shook his head.

For the record, in South Texas? There is nothing wrong with Tex-Mex or Texmex, or even straight up Mexican food, three times a day.

“No hay problema.” Essay.

Wished I’d thought of it before, Chris Madrid’s is a gorgeous, big, satisfying burger. Probably too far to pedal, though.

Illegal versus legal dumping, makes for an interesting counterpoint.

Still illegal:
I don’t recall what led me to this link about a LEO (Law Enforcement Officer), but it points up bizarre problems.

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