“Hey! There’s some assholes with guns in our parking lot," said Jorge III, Smugglers’ Inn’s landscaper and a citizen of Mexico. Jorge had just stepped into our westerly bus station from the door that leads to the outside. All of Smug’s employees are compelled to use this side entrance when the restaurant is not officially open. “They’re in the front. Check it out!”
“I din’ read eet,” Ramón said (Although couldn’t read it may have been more accurate). “You want Jorge and me tell ‘em to leave?”
Someone was pounding to get in. As much a decoration as a functioning portal, Smugglers’ Inn’s massive front door is made from sandblasted wood and is crisscrossed with Spanish-looking beaten metal bands. It looks like a door to keep out pirates, but it’s easily damaged. Half of the metal bits are held on with hot glue.