At this point a sinewy man with a mustache tottered over to our table and asked if we would let him buy us a round of drinks. We accepted and invited him to sit down. He drank a shot of tequila in one gulp.

This man, who called himself Héctor, stole Carlos’s eyeglasses, which prompted the old man to threaten to kick him in the balls. After finally returning the eyewear, Héctor gave me a seething look.

“He likes to fight,” whispered Samuel. “But don’t worry. I like to fight, too. I will protect you.” He took my hand and demonstrated the firm grip he’d developed as a jai alai player.

Héctor continued to glare at me. I wondered if a conflict would indeed emerge. To my surprise, he removed his wristwatch and gave it to me. Even by the generous standard of cantinas, this seemed like an extravagant gift. I began to make a speech about how beautiful it was, but I couldn’t possibly accept it.

“Take it,” Samuel said.

“Muchísimas gracias,” I said. 

I felt better a moment later when Héctor produced another watch from his pocket and unemphatically dropped it into a glass of soda water. This gesture seemed so defiant, impertinent, and baroquely inexplicable that I took off my own watch and gave it to him. Soon after, it undoubtedly found itself marinated.

Before I left, Samuel gave me a note that, to my surprise, was written in English. It said:

When you remember this night
you will think about this life.
Its night or is the life.
Do you understand?

For the best places to say salud, and other diversions in Mexico City, click here. "Where Everybody Knows Your Nombre" originally appeared in the January/February 2008 issue of Culture+Travel. For a complete list of articles from Culture+Travel available on ARTINFO, click here.