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… ended in a Mexican bar. How patriotic is that?! After schlepping down the Columbia Pike because DCPD decided our bus needed to unload its 40 some odd passengers and walk the 2 miles to the Pentagon for firework viewings we were desperate for a raging good time. We arrive back at the homebase and order a couple of cabbies only to have them never arrive.

Let it be said, I truly thought the night was destined for failure. I’m optimistic but there is only so much that can be done with no alcohol and no transportation. But… we took a gamble and went to a bakery. Yes, you read correctly… bakery at 12am. The aroma of scones and pastries was not what allured our army of adolescent adults. It was the fact that it was the only bar within walking distance. And low and behold it was packed with 20 to 30 Mexican Americans. Let me be more specific… 20 to 30 Mexican American Men. The only females I sight we either with us or tending the bar dispensing tequila.

But… would that deter us from celebrating the nation’s independence? No. Hell no. We raged. Hard. Tequila, Modelo, mystery draft beers and the Gypsy King’s cover of “Hotel California” blasting through the BOSEĀ© speakers. The bartender attempted to close shop… but like Superman coming to the rescue the owner arrives and saves the day by keeping the bar open and giving out free beers. Incredible.

I’ve never seen a gaggle of men swarm the four females that were with us in my life. I was impressed. Especially with the tan Michael Jackson look alike who attempted to re-inact the Thriller dance routine. Happy birthday America!! I love being a turtle!

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