Tacos Orinoco is a bright beacon of jovial energy set amongst a dark row of buildings on a broad avenida. The shuttered shopfronts huddle together jealously. I can't help but feel some pity; they seem lonely.

Such is life — there are winners and losers, and I would be damned if I were going home hungry. A boisterous, smoking, chattering line of well-dressed Chilangos (inhabitants of Mexico City) stretched around the block... stretched, in my feeble, hunger-addled mind, all the way to the horizon. A waitress handed out menus and tickets. I viewed the line, and my watch, with dismay. It remained 1:00 AM.