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I just earned "amigo" status at my local taqueria.

For almost all of the nine years I've lived in San Francisco, I've lived within a ten-block radius of Church and Market. The only good taqueria in this neighborhood is Taqueria El Castillito, on Church Street. Probably my second favorite burrito in the city, next to Taqueria Cancun on Mission Street. Castillito's a pretty seedy but likable joint, with burritos that are dryer than usual. They throw shredded lettuce in the veggie burritos, their beans are delicious and their salsa verde is darn good. I've been going there for a long time, seeing the same few Mexican dudes working there, exchanging pleasantries and little else.

Just now I was getting dinner (the usual: $3.86 for a regular veggie burrito with guacamole), and while I was waiting in line, the register was unattended. This super drunk, red-faced, shaved-head dude who looked semi-homeless was swaying in front of the register, eating corn chips and spitting crumbs all over the floor. Obnoxious, but nothing I don't see in SF just about every day. Then, he quickly reached into the tip jar, pulled out a fistful of money, and headed for the door. I almost said something but didn't want to get into it with a huge meth head over less than ten bucks, no matter how much he was in the wrong.

The super beefy gay dude in the cowboy hat, who also saw the whole thing, was braver than I. "HEY!!!" he yelled as the bald guy bolted. Gay cowboy chased him to the door and grabbed him by the belt as he left, but drunk bald guy got away from his grasp. The kitchen erupted into a fury of Spanish, and the younger, tall dude who's been working there for a long time took off after drunk bald guy. I followed. So now it was our posse -- gay cowboy, taqueria guy and me -- chasing the guy down the block. We caught him, and gay cowboy and I had taqueria guy's back as he grabbed the guy and took his money back without incident. Drunk bald dude stood there and looked like he considered throwing punches, but even his drug- and drink-addled mind knew he had no chance. He turned and split. The three of us walked back to the taqueria in silence. I'm sure we were all coming down from the fight-or-flight adrenaline rush.

I got an extra good burrito tonight, make no mistake. Handed to me with an eye-to-eye nod and a sincere "thanks, amigo."