Dancing with Steinbrenner
by J. Bradley
THE SERVER at Acapulco's gently places a kid-size poolful glass of margarita
on my table, the periscope of a straw staring into me. I pluck it out, lick
the part of the straw soaking in margarita, then sip, watching grains of salt
float into my mouth slowly. It burns away the knots in my neck and back. I
look at the menu for something that won't punch me in the stomach later. ...READ MORE