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“IT’S A TACO PARTY!” -JB

Let’s get on with this before my head melts. Cinco de Mayo is not Mexican Independence day, it’s a celebration of Mexican heritage. Over what you ask? Oh that’s simple. The Mexican victory over France in 1862, even though the war lasted until 1867. Yup, that’s right, Mexico and France. I’m glad we cleared that up because it’s time to get out our sombreros, eat some tacos and drink some corona to get in the spirit! It’s less offensive that way, right?

I got down to business and dusted off the old calender. When was the last time I Cinco de Mayo’d? 2011 to 2008 were a no go, weekday workaholic. It seemed 2007 was my last taco standoff. I couldn’t even remember what my college-de-mayo involved; probably tequila. F*cking lush, how did we even get this far?

The fiesta started like any other weekend. JB called me half past noon. “Guess what?” he asked. I didn’t need to respond, I could smell it through the phone. “I’ve already had two margaritas. It’s time to celebrate amigo,” he added. I dragged my feet for the rest of the day. Were we really going to fall into the stereotype? I quickly got my answer. JB showed up toting a massive bag of Taco Bell. He was running the full gambit of cliches today. “Get your ass moving. Clutch isn’t coming out. Something about the French,” said JB. I foresaw large hand drawn mustaches in our future and out the door we went.

I was worried that Philly was at capacity. I heard of riots starting when the tequila dried up. People trampled, windows smashed. “Tequila’s out? Get me a Mexican beer! Well sir, we’ve got Tecate…” “WHAT IS THIS? I demand authentic Mexican. Get me a god damn Corona and don’t forget the lime you scum!” It was all about timing and trusting that there wouldn’t be a shortage. We made our way down the desolate streets. Where was all the commotion the lack of sobriety? I had a case of deja-vu, reminiscent of the Philly Zombie Crawl. Did we trade brains for margaritas? Unlikely I thought. It was only a matter of time until the sun set and the army of sombrero wearing drunks made their stand.

We made a dash for the first open bar; the location didn’t matter tonight. Every bar was filled with people consuming vast amounts of Mexican culture. I stared at the door and waited. Any second a mariachi band would smash through the door ready to party. If nothing else everyone was in the spirit of things. A girl threw her sombrero on the ground and started to gyrate around it. She sloshed her drink and shook her muffin top. “OLÉ!!”, JB shouted as she fell over. “Just look around this place man,” JB said lost in thought. Women were everywhere; at least five women for every one guy. “IT’S A TACO PARTY!” he shouted. A few people cheered.

Tonight wasn’t just about using every Mexican stereotype possible; it was something bigger. Tonight was an excuse for girls to get drunk. Think about it. Tequila is THE number one panty loosening alcohol, girls with mustaches already they fit in, and worst case scenario someone can hide their face with sombrero. Well played Mexican Heritage day, well played indeed.

 

The bottom line:
Cinco de mayo isn’t the amateur drinking night a lot of people expect. It’s an all around good time where everyone is in high spirits and are usually a good mood. Plus, can you really hate tacos and dollar Coronas?

 

Now I’m an expert.

 

 

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