We knew we were at the right house even though the numbers were too small to read because we could see clusters of people at the far end of the long driveway. As we approached we heard the strident music of a Mexican band and there they were – three trumpets blaring and a violin (at one side) and three guitars at the other facing side.
As I rolled between them I saw how elegantly they were costumed, black pants, white shirts, crisp white bolero jackets (although the super-fat trumpeter’s jacket made no attempt to meet at the middle). The large fuschia bows at the necks added a jaunty touch. I smiled kindly at them as I rolled through in my wheel chair. They were playing so loud and earnestly even though I was certain each was playing from a different song in his head. It sounded that way to me the entire evening, although they did begin and end at the same beat.
Then we approached the long table where several people were seated eating from the very many bowls lining it. Our host greeted us and encouraged us to sit down and partake of the large variety of Mexican food. I ate mostly guacamole. The bowl was decorated with two exquisite flowers hardly recognizable as the tomatoes they were. And whimsically the avocado pit was in the spicy mix too.
I whispered to a friend that since there were no napkins, was it fair to wipe my fingers on the runner down the center of the table? He jumped up and brought me a stack from the well laden bar on the back lawn although he had to tiptoe through the tomato plants to get there.
After eating from all the bowls that kept arriving on our long table, along comes a big truck down their driveway. Ovens are unloaded and tables are set up in the garage for the ovens and several Mexican ladies start cooking tacos. The truck forced the band onto the back lawn at my shoulder where they clustered in a group trampling down some garden growth. Now I noticed that one of the horn players was a vocalist. He had a little mike at his neck. I think he was good.
At one point the host’s daughter joined the band singing the Mexican song. It was a lovely moment. The only song I could catch a beat to was "Roll Out the Barrel." What?
We left before the birthday cake for the 50th birthday of our young host was brought out. I wonder what a Mexican birthday cake looks like?