There's a Mexican restaurant in town--part of a little Western chain, actually--called Fiesta en Jalisco. Connery would eat there for every meal if we'd let him. And he would always get the same thing: a plate of rice and beans. No tacos, no tostadas, and for God's sake no fajitas. Just rice and beans, please--and make it snappy.
Yesterday evening, with Chip safely at home from his Chicago trip--sadly minus his luggage, which United Airlines managed to lose on a direct flight into Bozeman--we decided to celebrate with dinner out. Despite the fact that Connery and I had gone there just a few days ago, he begged us to go to the Mexican place. "I love rice and beans!" he told us plaintively. We acknowledged his love and went on discussing where we would go to eat. He got more insistent. "I want to go there. I love rice and beans! Because I'm Mexican!"
Interesting.
But guess where we ate? The boy's no fool.