Cinco De Mayo is almost upon us, and for no small reason, I would like to say congratulations. I’m not high-fiving anyone in particular, and especially not you, Dos Equis dude, with the groupy magnet, facial hair.
I’m also not celebrating the Mexican inspired promotional items made in China, by African workers trying to save up for a fruitful migration to Dubai. My hip hip hooray goes out to the amazingness that is the establishment of a drinking holiday that dovetails oh, so nicely, with the ushering in of the nubile season that is spring.
Drinking of booze was not invented by America, but cause-based boozing has been significant to the development of American culture. Champagne campaigns have been disguised as monthlong birthday celebrations.
New Years Eve starts before Christmas and ends in the first few days of Jan. Halloween used to be a day celebrated by kids and dentists and only on October 31st, but has transmogrified into a bacchanal worthy of Caligula or Canadian mayors.
Halloween finds the streets of American cities littered with a potpourri of over-mollied, costumed debutantes and gangsta pimps, suffering the fallout of extreme overindulging in booze, fried foods and high fructose snackables.
A puritan back beat has marked the invention of American cause drinking and of them all, Cinco De Mayo takes the award for pure and unadulterated inaneness. Nobody even knows what Cinco De Mayo is, but it’s provocative.
I say that as a semi-quote from a movie, that was kinda quoted by a rap record, though I say it with nary a trace of tongue in cheek. I tried to look up the origin of Cinco De Mayo, but it was very difficult, because apparently, Donald Sterling has broke Google and my trust in other search engines is not that stout.
The rival of Cinco De Mayo (CDM), for livers, loss of respect and virtue, is St. Patrick’s Day, which kicks it up a whole ‘nother level by having a parade built into the shrewd attempt to hide our own personal discomfort with existence, through the mass consumption of alcohol.
I once saw a woman, completely passed out on St. Patrick’s Day, at 8:30am. That particular level of drunkedness, before Kelly Ripa has even finished her day, is a sight to behold.
It’s a permission slip from your mom to get extremely wasted, which also doubles as a permission slip to attend the St. Patrick’s Day parade, which is a NYC tradition. With all of its built in pageantry, combined with an actual non-drinking purpose for the celebration, St. Patrick’s Day isn’t as insane, in and of itself, as May 5th.
The weekend leading up to the day of Tequila, tacos and lack of temperance is here. Find some people who you are not friends with and turn them into besties over a bucket of beer and take-out, Taco Bell.
If you’re new to Brooklyn and have been longing for a bonding situation and have not lived through any extreme conditions dictated by Mother Nature, the opportunity is squarely in the present. You didn’t get stranded by Sandy or walk over the bridge during The Blackout, nor did you lament the closing (and subsequent reopening) of Moe’s.
But if you get webisode wasted to the point of complete and utter embarrassment, and more importantly, if it was all documented by hand held devices, you might have friends for life.
Hit a backyard boogie in Bed-Stuy, and admire the medicinal baked goods and the artisanal Mezcal, filtered thru the fingers of virginal, agave workers. Turn-up, uninvited, at rooftop jams in Crown Heights, bearing nothing but a cooler of cerveza and a bag of nachos. Nobody will turn you down; but then it’s all up to you to make it work.
Pick out the people that also look like they’re at the rooftop jam alone, and avoid them like Green Peace workers. A hodge-podge group of random outcasts, is just not a good look and rather sad, unless you’re getting residual checks from Revenge Of The Nerds.
If you need help finding cool events, go immediately from this article and click on the What’s Up Weekend listings on The Brooklyn Reader and find something where you will be able to get in, where you fit in. Perhaps it’s a live show or some performance art piece, where everyone dresses up like banditos and are led through dark passageways and serpentine tunnels.
Cinco De Mayo weekend is not just about drinking, as it’s a 5k Run in Prospect Park on Sunday, May 4th, but if you’re not drinking before or after a run, whether it’s 1k or 5k, it’s definitely not ok. In fact, that 5k run sounds perfect with shots of tequila. Then, if you finish the race AND pass out from sheer exhaustion and into some sort of Cuervo coma, you will rule, indefinitely.
Here’s to Cinco de Mayo, I raise my glass to you and it happens to a be in a shot glass to you in recognition and awe… even if it is a shot glass.
I honestly suggest that you enjoy the weekend without passing out, because it’s always more thrilling to recall the awesome memories you made during the Cinco De Mayo weekend, especially if you missed the Obamacare cut-off date and your medical plan consists of ‘Tussin, liquid bandages and a variety of herbs from Chinatown.
Faking extreme intoxication could be something fun for the agave holiday, but I’m not a fan of faking anything, especially intoxication or the funk. But if you do find yourself sloshed off your rocker this Cinco De Mayo weekend, keep in mind that binge drinking is as American as apple pie, from a drive through McDonalds…
And this could be your last shot to make the All-American team.
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