Unlike our wonderfully homogeneous Grand Old Days in St. Paul each summer, with its hordes of drunk St. Thomas sorority kids and Germanically blonde baby-boomers, the Cinco de Mayo festivities that adorn Robert Street in the spring of every year draw hordes of hypervigilant, vested members of the respected anti-gang gang, and they're not hanging around to nosh a few of La Loma's tamales. It's a tragic distinction. 
