#9 - Tequila, it Makes Me Happy. Or, Mexico.

Thursday 17 June 7.30pm I’m a little late for this one. Making my way to Barrio Central in Soho, I walk up a part of Berwick Street that I haven’t seen before, to discover – oh, happiness! – a Music and Video Exchange. When it comes to shopping for CDs, alphabetisation is the enemy of discovery, so the MVE system of sorting stock only by genre is a treat. There are few things as pleasing in life as finding a bargain in MVE (or Flashback, another favourite) and tonight I’m lucky enough to find one CD I’ve wanted for a while (Brand New’s ‘Daisy’), and one to take a punt on, the only album recorded by early grunge band Temple of the Dog.

The distraction means it’s an effort to squeeze into Barrio Central's small downstairs room, but I roll up my sleeves and muscle my way in. It isn’t overwhelmingly Mexican – probably only a quarter or a third of the crowd – but I get talking to the guy in a Mexican shirt stood next to me. Only thing is, he claims, after a pause, to be American.

Daniel explains that he’s from LA, but from a Mexican family. In the UK, he introduces himself as American - but in the US, “nobody is just American.” So he's Mexican-American and, tonight at least, the emphasis is on the Mexican. As he says, “where you’re born isn’t necessarily what’s in your blood, you know?”

Being born in England into a family hailing entirely from Northern Ireland – a place where questions of identity are more hotly-disputed than most – I know what he’s talking about.

After the game, I tell him the rule that I set myself at the start of the evening: no tequila unless I meet a proper Mexican. Now, the bar has an excellent selection of tequila, so there’s only ever going to be one reply from Daniel. “We’re getting shots, my friend!”

Some time later, we say our goodbyes and I wander happily home, humming La Cucuracha to myself. I’ve drunk tequila with a Mexican – one of my life’s ambitions is complete.