Tres Mexicanos Entran A Un Bar

Contributed by Kay Lorraine

Three Mexicans walked into a bar… You probably think this is the beginning of a joke rather than the start of an absolutely true story about what happened to me down here in Texas last Thursday.

Around six, I went to Sanchos Cantina, a little dive around the corner from the RAICES legal office on Flores Street. As the only blonde in the place, I exuded the vibe “gringo.” As the only 71-year-old wahine, I definitely wasn’t exuding, “Wanna buy a thirsty girl a drink?”

I was enjoying a liquid libation and reading my book when the aforementioned three Mexicans walked in and sat down at the table next to mine.

They were very young (as it turned out, all had turned 21 in the past couple of months) and they were celebrating their very first apartment together. The guys were noisy and rambunctious and were self-conscious about it. They kept apologizing to me, but I assured them that it was fine. We struck up a conversation, and after about 5 minutes of shouting at each other across the aisle, I joined them and bought a round of drinks for the table. We talked and joked around for almost an hour.

At one point, the boys were agonizing over a concert they wanted to attend on Sunday but felt guilty about. “It’s the Lord’s day,” one of them said and then he turned to me for validation. I shrugged and pointed out that I was a Jew and, as such, had no issue with Sundays. They were amazed. They had never met a Jew before. I assured them that they undoubtedly had but, like meeting me, they probably weren’t aware of it.

Anyhow, we laughed and talked about their jobs, their dreams for the future, what I was doing in Texas, and what Hawaii is like.

When I got up to leave, one of them took me aside and said, “Can I ask you an honest question? We had a blast with you but what’s your ‘agenda’ with us?”

I was confused. “I have no agenda. I’m older than all three of you put together so I’m certainly not trying to pick you up. What ‘agenda’ could I possibly have?”

“Are you trying to convert us?”

I howled with laughter and told him, “That’s it exactly,” I said. “One round of drinks and “poof!” you’re all Jews. Mazel Tov! And by the way, if you weren’t circumcised when you came in, you are now. You’re welcome!!”

He flinched slightly at the thought and then snorted out a laugh. And as I left, they shouted out to me, “We’re all going to absolutely come to visit you in Hawaii. You’ll be sorry you gave us your email.”

“I’m moving!” I shouted back. It felt good to laugh.

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