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We wandered through the superstore and made a few small purchases. We exited and walked slowly in the afternoon heat, down the crowded sidewalk, shaking our heads at the offers for drinks, for prescription medications, for jewelry, for nopal, for toys, for clothing, for dental work. We crossed the ever dusty street in almost slow motion and made our way back to the smoky, dark cool of the lounge to wait. The Piano Lady played Strangers in the Night on her electric keyboard, bass pre-programmed, and a youth soccer game played on the big screen, crying parents celebrating their sons' victory. We ordered cold soft drinks, sweat running down the bottles, and poured them over tall glasses with big cubes of ice. We ate Spanish peanuts and chips covered with chili lime salt while sitting in low bucket swivel chairs at a short round table. In this place, the border fulfills exactly the stereotype you might imagine.