After 3 hours in the air and descended into San Antonio, I walked into the terminal from the plane, I knew what I would be having. Tex Mex. that makes 3 times this week I have had variations of Mexican food, each wonderful in its own way. The tacos that were served to me were as good as the tacos that Randy and I use to drive down the Tollway to get. Our friends thought we were crazy when we would tell them that we would drive downtown on Sat mornings, pull into a truck stop which sat right smack dab in the middle ( sorry, but I’m in Texas so I have to used Texas words, like smack dab, as it makes me feel so at home) of bail bond buildings, which surrounded the jail. You never knew who would be pulling up next to you at this truck stop. You might find yourself looking straight in the eyes of someone just released from jail, hungry for street food, or a fancy dressed lawyer who might have been just the guy who had defended or prosecuted the drug dealer who was now eyeing either my wedding ring or my shredded beef taco. It was hard to tell. One Saturday evening, we got the urge to head down to get some tacos. As we pulled into the truck stop, Randy,my brave little protector, said, since it is almost dark, maybe we should at least park under the light which shone over the parking lot. He told me that if I felt really brave, I could go inside the truck stop to get us a drink while he got our tacos. I told him that I was dressed to nice to do that. After all, my shorts actually matched my blouse. I would stand out too much and they would know we were outsiders. We would just have to order the mild sauce since I was afraid to get out of the car for our drinks. Since there is no inside seating, you eat in your car. When he went up to the window to order our tacos, he first reminded me to lock the car doors as soon as he got out. As I sat there waiting for him to come back, wait let me rephrase that, praying that he would make it back to the car, with tacos in hand, I decided that this might be our last trip to our truck stop. We were getting to old to fight or run. the next time we craved these delightful little taco gems, we would just have to settle for El Fenix. At least they had more parking lot lights and you could eat inside. The clientele wasn’t as diverse, but at least I didn’t have to worry about losing my wedding ring or someone snatching our tacos out of our hands. If they did, we could ask the waiter to go chase them for us! He would get a really nice tip!