Riding our bikes through Mexico with a bunch of people. It was like an organized bike ride but not a race. My dad, uncle, sisters, and some cousins were there as well as an American pastor and his son that happened to be Mexican. Then there were all the other people that signed up for the ride. The last stop we made was at a small restaurant.
We were all riding our bikes along the road as it began to get dark. My middle sister, I am the oldest, kept riding up to me and grabbing my handle bars so I would crash. This made me very angry with her but as soon as I would let it go, in she would swoop and do it again. Finally we made it to a small village. It was pretty much dark out now and some of the locals stopped us and questioned us. I asked them if there was a problem but they couldn’t come up with a legal issue so I told them we would be on our way. It was a real hero like thing to do, but also could have resulted in a tussle… but my standing up helped them to back down. On the other side of town we stopped to eat at this small restaurant. Apparently I had been there before because the women at the counter knew me by name. She was about my age and spoke excellent english. I ordered and helped others order. I used my credit card for my food and was surprised there weren’t any issues. I ordered french fries, potato wedges, beans and rice, and some sort of chicken. Since I was helping some of the smaller children I didn’t sit down to eat until last. When I went to the table and sat down, I noticed my chicken was gone. My youngest sister had her chicken missing too as well as someone else missing a taco. I looked around and noticed the pastor’s son was still eating. He had gotten his food first and I was pretty sure I saw him run off when he was done. What was he eating and where did he get it? He got if from my plate and others. I walked over to him and we had a conversation which eventually ended in him confessing. I went and told the lady what had happened and ordered the things that were stolen for the people and when I went to pay she told me not to worry about it. Then I walked the boy to his father, the pastor, and explained what had happened and that I had already taken care of replacing the food he had stolen. Then I went back to my seat and ate my meal that had cost – 58 pesos. That is right… negative 58 pesos? I guess that means I got a couple dollars put on my credit card for bringing a bunch of business to her restaurant? Everyone else paid normally.