I usually do the driving on our trips to the neighboring town of Delores Hidalgo, on account of our roomy car comfortably accommodates two or even three couples. We have lots of reasons to go there: to peruse the colonial-era sights, to buy Talavera pottery, to eat nopal ice cream in the plaza.

I don't get to see much of the countryside on these excursions, what with the narrow, shoulder-free highway, stray animals darting onto the road, potholes, and Mexico's weirdly erratic drivers to contend with. Safe driving requires intense concentration.

On a recent carnitas run, though, Paul (El Guapo) was driving, so I got to look at the passing scenery. On the right, there appeared a building painted in colors lurid even for Mexico.

As we passed the gated entry under the tiled roof, a startling image flashed in the corner of my eye. I asked Paul to stop so I could take a closer look.

¡Hola Mamacita! I guess this place isn't selling cantera fountains after all.

It appears to be some sort of night club or roadhouse, sitting there isolated out on the highway. An out-of-town place to go, maybe, if you don't want to be seen visiting a strip joint by your neighbors or your wife.

The slogan at the top of the banner reads, "We want to see you happy." Indeed.

The previous images fail to fully convey the horrid color scheme. Here's the front door, clashing unforgettably with the stucco wall.

The orange broom with the green handle only adds to the chromatic cacophony.

The place was closed indefinitely for remodeling. I had to peer at it through locked iron gates. I wondered what the Lucite sign beside the door said, but it was too far away to make out. So I zoomed my point-and-shoot Olympus to the max and shot it for enlarging and reading at home. The effort was rewarding.

The sign announces some restrictions. Minors are denied admission. That would be 18 in Mexico. Sort of. Wouldn't want to compromise the morals of teenage boys, would we?

The second regulation provides a really interesting Spanish lesson. Persons in an "inconvenient state" are not allowed. That one sent me scurrying to my dictionaries. Turns out Inconveniente is a polite way of saying "drunk". I guess the equivalent English term would be "intoxicated."

That's gotta be one of the more politically correct expression I've ever seen.

The third rule is a mystery. You're not allowed in if you're wearing pants or shorts. (I didn't think pants or shorts were Spanish words.) But the real question is, if not pants or shorts, then what should you wear? Kilts? Nothing? What the girls in the poster were wearing?

Just what kind of a place is this, anyway?