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This all started because we were hungry. Tobin and I had been biking acrossing Durango all day and this catina had the sweet smell of tamales rolling out its door. After a quick exchange with the barkeep, comida was on the way.
It was then I saw this guy who just struck me as a true character. This lively old man was putting so many sheets in the wind he was ready to soon take off. He was playing poke with what appeared to be either the local heffe or a similarly powerful man.
It was right as our much treasured tamales made an appearance that some real serious trouble started. Blocking the dear sweet senora was the heffe, whom had a gun pulled on the drunken card in corner. And this joker was wild.
You have to understand we were traveling with just very basic Spanish. Think of us as the friendly village idiots on tour. What was happening now will transpiring at such a click, a lot was being lost in translation. But what was happening now, from the best I could tell, was that a dog was to become involved. The tamales were still being blocked.
It was then that the rather thick and scary atmosphere was lifted with a cheer from the crowd, who had been watching the argument like it was good community theater. Then unbelievably the heffe, who still has the gun drawn on the drunk, gives the wild man his piece!
Holy Moly.
When the rumored dog was finally produced, the crowd started filing outside. We sat watching, hoping there would be no more delays in the arrival of the tamales, still just a mere 10 feet away, yet so very far, when one of the local dudes started sweating us. We didn't understand what we wanted so badly, well, until he drew his gun and pointed for us to go outside too. That we understood.
So we walk outside into a real carnival scene. All eyes were on the man who now had the gun aimed at the dog in question. The dog was literally smiling, enjoying the limelight. He also had a can on his head.
So the baracho shakes his head twice and becomes a living breathing gunslinger. With dead aim, he shot the can right off the dog's head. The dog sat quietly as the can was replaced. The crowd started chanting. They were counting down by thousands of pesos. From what we surmised was that this was somehow involved with the card game.
Bam, second shot was also dead on. We have gone from 3000 to 2000, and the chant was on a 1000. Things were looking good for the dog. The last shot brought the crowd to a frenzy and the fiesta moved back inside.
Every dog had his day, but this dog was blessed with years. We would find out over tamales this was just about a weekly event. And that dog had worked out close to 100,000 pesos for its loving, yet always drunk, owner. Take it or leave it.
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