I love Mexican food; like, eat-Mexican-five-times-a-week love it. Like, have-Chipotle-cater-my-wedding love it. I could completely happily eat only Mexican cuisine for the rest of my life; fresh corn tortillas and refried beans hold a special place in my heart. (And sure, that special place may largely be composed of cholesterol buildups, but my point remains.) The point is, Mexican cuisine, and Mexican restaurants are near and dear to me; and the majority of the time, my adoration for such a widely-beloved genre of cuisine has never caused me harm. However, one of the few times it has, was truly detrimental to my well-being; both physically, and spiritually. Taking place in an amazing madre y padre Mexican restaurant in my hometown, I was eating lunch with my uncle one day. I placed a typical order of taquitos, and happily munched on the chips and salsa they gave us until our food came; and when it did, steaming and smelling muy delicioso, I dug in. However, I quickly ran into an issue- this was the spiciest taquito I had ever eaten. I immediately began sweating, fanning off my face. We were eating outside, and, still burning up, rushed inside the restaurant to ask for a glass of water. However, Iwas met with a wall of stale, hot air. The entire restaurant wsa sweltering, which was doing nothing to help my own heat-based dilemma. One of the waiters told me that their air conditioner had been on the fritz, and the air conditioner repairman as well as their usual HVAC technician were both unable to come until tomorrow. It was so hot in that restaurant- emboldened by the spiciness of my food, my body felt like it was melting from heat. It was absolutely sweltering in there. Their HVAC technician needed to highstep it over to this place, because I was going to be a puddle to mop up from the floor soon if their air conditioner wasn’t repaired ASAP.