We'll admit that hearing the words "cash-only ceviche" and "Swap Shop" in the same sentence may sound like the formula for a rip-roarin' case of vibrio. But head to the west side of the Swap, beyond the God Is Good Shoe Store (where the motto is "Nothing Comes Before the Time"), past the produce stands and aisles of coco frío, and stop at El Tiburon for some of the best mixed ceviche $12 can buy. If the Swap is open, so are they. Walking in from the parking lot, the first thing you'll hear is the music: Spanish guitar humming over a PA and live acts on the weekend. Next, the smell of crisp, deep-fried shrimp draws you closer. Minutes later, you're up to your neck in longneck Coronas and baskets of jalea. El Tiburon is far enough from the vendors with whom you regret making eye contact that you don't feel awkward taking your wallet out. It's also partitioned by large potted palms and cooled with large overhead fans, like its own little oasis in the Swap swamp. How will you have the energy to fuel your trek through the endless isles of car stereos and train horns, socks on socks on socks, oversized Sunshine State towels, white old lady porn, knives, and assless outfits only a prostitute would wear, without a belly full of raw fish and a Michelada (or three)? Lord knows you can't be sober and at the Swap Shop on a weekend.