Cinco de Mayo images from 2006:
From my fictional novel A Western Capitol Hill:
Straw cowboy hats stand out on the men, the Mexican nationals, in attendance. A reminder that the word “buckaroo” comes from the Spanish word, vaquero.
Corporate banners abound. One booth tries to entice people into purchasing long-distance phone plans. Another seeks customers for a bottled-water service. Military recruiters hand out pencils that say “Yo Soy El Army” on them.
As the smoke from a grill wafts over them, people stand in line for authentic Mexican tacos: pork or chicken on lightly fried, soft corn tortillas, garnished with a cilantro-onion mix, different salsas, limes, and radishes.
“I thought you were going to get a torta,” says a disappointed man, Hispanic himself, as his wife returns to the shady grass area in front of the City and
A mariachi band with Mohawk haircuts blares away on their trumpets, guitars and a bajo sexto.
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