Our first night in Tucson, we head straight for our favorite local fast food Mexican place (you just can’t get good Mexican in Boulder). Strangely, we’re the only customers at Sanchez Burrito Company. We chalk it up to a Monday night. We order our usuals from the last time we ate here, when we were locals 12 years before. In a few minutes, the woman behind the counter tells us our food is ready. We bring it to a table and dig in. Ummmm…. Huh? We hear a man’s voice yelling in front. We figure the cook and the woman are fooling around, until we hear her scream. Tim looks up to see a hooded, bandana’d man pointing a Glock toward the counter and says under his breath, “they’re being robbed. He has a gun. Don’t move.” Good advice; the only way out of the place is past the guy. The woman has run into the back with the cook and slammed a door. We try to make like the furniture. He glances over at us. Tim catches his eye. The would-be robber hesitates, then runs out the door. Tim tells me to get under a table and give him my cell phone. I comply. He sheilds me as he calls 911. We don’t know if the guy ran out back to try to find the woman, or if he’s planning to come back in to find us. Tim wants to go up front to look around, rather than be “cornered like rats.” I beg him not to go... pull at his belt loops. I’m afraid he’ll run into the guy. Within minutes, there are 6 cops surrounding the restaurant. The cook comes out, shaken. The woman comes out, crying. Tim gives the cops a good description, but neither he nor the woman ever saw the guy’s face. I had my back to it all and didn’t see a thing. We return to our meal. Tim eats heartily. I’m no longer hungry, and besides, my hands are shaking too much to handle the silverware. I take a swig from his beer. A big swig. The first of many. I hate beer. I don’t care.

As we leave, Tim tells the woman, “Wonderful burritos, but the floor show needs work.”