Tribes
It’s happy hour at a beachside restaurant and I am drinking a spectacular Margarita, chatting with Irene. She sticks out in this beach town; late thirties, fleshy belly and bikini top with a leather skirt, and a low-slung army belt with lots of ammunition pouches. She has a tattoo that covers half her back and a sunny disposition. Irene and her pal are in Montezuma ‘following the festival circuit’. The party was at their place last night and tonight some guy with a manison up