One afternoon my wife and our (at the time) young son were strolling down a wide, deserted beach along a malecón in Mazatlán, Mexico. It was around lunchtime, and the tall spires of the Pacifico Brewery in the distance were inspiring an almost religious-like thirst.
Su amigo, on the beach in Mazatlán
As fortune would have it, a gentleman came running from one of the dilapidated fish joins lining the malecón down the beach after us, promising delicious food and cold beer. A fisherman had just come in, he said, with a particular fish they rarely ever had — one of the best in all of Mexico! However skeptical we may have been about the story, we were ready for the pitch, so we followed him back up to the empty plastic tables and chairs and Tecaté umbrellas awaiting us away from the water. More
skinny girls & mayonnaise 