The cafe, he explained, closed at two on a Sunday. It was now gone three. Just the bar open. Dallas Cowboys game on the big screen. Quickly grappling with my dismay, I looked around. Was there coffee I asked? No. But there was some spicy soup left in the heater. And some home made Brownies and corn bread. I bought the lot. Some for lunch, the remainder for the long pull into Del Rio. Expecting a late finish. Several hours after dark.
I’d left Langtry later than perhaps I should have. Too busy chatting with Keith, failing to appreciate how tough the headwinds would prove to me on the road to Comstock. Only settlement of sorts before the city of Del Rio. Little there besides a Border Post station and a small motel. There’d once been a cafe but that was now closed. Just the bar. Drawn in by the sports commentary piped over speakers outside.
