When I looked up, it was déjà vu all over again! I saw the village I’m sure I would have lived in had I been born in Mexico!
I gawked. I stared, glassy-eyed. I whipped out my trusty Powershot and fired a few rounds. The waitress approached me, a look of concern in her eyes. “Please,” she said . . .
[Are they going to toss her out of there for shooting up the place? Is she ever going to get anything to eat?? Don’t miss tomorrow’s gripping conclusion!]