Iron Fist

In Mexico, Cinco de Mayo is a celebration of the Mexicans smoking the French in the Battle of Puebla, and not actually Mexican Independence Day, as a lot of people seem to think. Every year on this day, the people of Mexico…eat beans and tortillas, which actually makes it not too much different than other days in Mexico. There’s some dancing and playing ranchero music, but again, nothing unusual. Cinco de Mayo is really only kind of a big deal in Mexico, as opposed to being an actual big deal.

In the United States, however, we go completely freakin’ insane for Cinco de Mayo. Maybe it’s because we like to make a big deal about beating the French, but again, not that many people know that’s what Cinco de Mayo is really about. Or maybe it’s because people just like to get sauced.

This year, we had albóndigas and homemade salsa as a nod to tradition. We also consumed completely ridiculous amounts of tequila, in a manner that was neither especially safe nor very intelligent. The pleasantly buzzed stage probably lasted fifteen or twenty minutes, but as our bravado increased, so did the peer pressure we applied to one another to take yet another shot. This had the effect of catapulting the lot of us right over the drunk stage, right into the “acutely poisoned” range.

But when we finally conceded that we’d all had entirely too much and were probably on the verge of death (or at least lasting brain damage), did we go down quietly? Did we bail out, weeping like a bunch of culeros?

Fuck no. We went down punk rock style, stickin’ it to the Man.

Hell yeah.

(Note: there’s notes for this picture on my Flickr page, click on the photo to check them out.)