Dear La Piñata,

I want to start off with a "don't go," so I can at least go on record with my broken heart and empty stomach that I tried to make you stay. I heard the rumors spreading through the town, and it was only until I walked in for what I didn't realize was my last chimichanga from your kitchen that I was going to receive confirmation to the rumors from my mom (she's a huge fan of yours as well), and I hoped weren't true.

For those of you who haven't been blessed with the opportunity to spend your time here in Oxford enjoying La Piñata because you aren't one for Mexican food, or you are one of the crazy few who actually for some god-awful reason think Charra is better, Piñata is the home to dollar margs, somehow the best grilled chicken in a 30-mile radius and flexible hours for when Gio (also goes by Ignacio for those he hasn't provided free shots to) decides to stay open an hour later because he sees you're having a good time.

You've really become a staple in my life. Bad day? Marg. Great day? Marg. Dad broke his arm moving me in and Mom and I needed a place to drink away our frustration while he was at the hospital? Marg. You watched me grow from my first night out in college, to your final days standing and through every birthday of mine in between.

I can't believe our time has come—the time that you turn off your grills, stop the frozen margarita machines from spinning and close your doors forever.

I'm sure I'm speaking on behalf of all those who have entered your doors. Oxford and all of the students you've provided endless shots of tequila, chips and salsa, quesadillas, fajitas and dollar margs to will miss you greatly.

On that note, gracias, adiós and how about one last round?