Breakfast at the Pastry Chef, stopped off and scored a perfect “curtado” at Cafe Dali, worked through lunch, and the promoter offered me a key to the hotel’s pool in the middle of the afternoon.
Nothing like a quick dip to make everything all better. Just like being at home. Almost.
Then, the plan came up over breakfast, since it had been such a terrible day on Saturday, “Why don’t we hit the casino tonight? Pack up about 4 and go on over for the buffet?”
Which we didn’t do, exactly. We did have a great afternoon, really busy, and while I was digging around to pack up, I stumbled across a stash of cash I’d left behind, about $50 in fives, so there was a little bid of “discretionary cash” for the whole casino run.
Which was fun, but I figure I lost about $20, all in all.
While standing in line a the buffet, it was interesting to watch as two Latinas ordered fresh-made Italian dishes in border patois.
Friday, when I was walking out of the airplane & down the concourse, a guy looked at me, at the clock on the wall, and asked, “Are we in a different time zone?”
“Yeah, El Paso is in a different zone, all right… plus it’s Mountain Standard Time.”
“The Twilight Zone?”
It’s something like that.
Pastry Chef window
