Viva Mexico! The Bicentennial

This is it; this is supposed to be the nuttiest this place has been in the last 100 years.  It is nice and sunny, very pleasant. Personally, I have been waiting for this day for my gift from the Mexican Government.  They sent out a Mexican flag to every house in the country.  As Of this morning, ours has not shown up.  I noticed the other day, the feuding neighbor across the street is proudly displaying two of these flag and we are curiously missing one.  I feel rejected.  This country doesn’t want me, they have denied me a flag. No flag, but there is the party tonight to celebrate Mordo’s birthday and the Bicentennial.  There will be food-that is a good thing.

The day is slow moving, as time ticks away, the clouds start rolling in.  They are blocking streets in preparation for the huge blowout tonight.  Luckily we are not anywhere near the epicenter of Mexican pride.  A phone call comes in rather early, and Lilliana asks Tonya to go shopping with her for the party.  I decide to stay home and putz around doing my own stuff.  Of course, in true Mexican style, Lilliana is late.  It is after noon by the time she shows up.  As soon as they leave, I am into my junk.  Luckily, I had to figure out some conversion processes for some computer files.  It took a while, so I was happily keeping myself amused.  Tonya called be around 2:30 and asked if they should drop some food off for me. Nah, I was fine, carry on girls!

I was starting to get burned out by the time Tonya got home.  Days like this kind of drive me nuts.  It is disheartening when you realize how long you have been staring at a computer screen.   I go downstairs and have a small bite to eat with Tonya.  She is burned out and run a bit ragged from the grocery store errand.  The party has been pushed back a bit, so we have time to relax.  Tonya says she is beat, and luckily so is Lillianna and Cesar.  They had some big-time part the night before.  Cesar is extremely hung over and is sleeping.  According to Tonya, it will be a subdued affair tonight.  We are both pleased with that because neither of us are excited about it.  We both confess we would rather stay home and watch a film.

No call or sign of partiers as the designated time draws near.  Tonya calls to see what is going on.  Mordo is running late.  Cesar is still sleeping and Lilliana is fighting to keep her eyes open.  The sky is really grey and looks as if it will rain at any minute.  Tonya takes advantage of the situation and calls Mordo and asks for a ride.  Sure, he will be here at 7.  We are happy, we have even more time to sit around.  She finds out that the number of guests has been greatly exaggerated.  There will be 5, maybe 6 of us. We just look at one another then Tonya says upbeat, “Well, it will be easier for us to leave then!”

It starts to rain at a few minutes before 7.  It is completely grey and nasty outside.  The rain falls harder by the minute.  True to form, Mordo is late again.  Tonya calls to see what is going on.  He has not even started to leave, so it will be about half an hour more.  I am about to resign.  The rain is making me very lazy.  I have basically sat inside all day and I am way over it.

Mordo shows up and calls us from his cell phone.  Tonya says it’s him, let’s go.  Tonya grabs a raincoat and we head out the door.  Mordo has his A/C on super-freeze, and when we get in we both feel as if we will begin to frost any second now.  Mordo is almost lying prone; his seat is pushed back so far and leaned back.  He is chatting on his phone.  This does not look like a guy ready to celebrate his 51 years and 200 years of Independence.  He says he needs to stop at a nearby convenience store to get some food. “What do you need food for Mordo, we are going to have dinner now?” Tonya asks.  “I know”, Mordo says, “but I am really hungry and I want something now” He calls Lilliana to see if she needs anything else.  Just some coke and ice.

As we get out of the car and walk up to Cesar and Lillian’s, Tonya says, “Ice.  We forgot ice” Oh well.  We turn and Mordo has disappeared.  He is messing around with something in his car.  He’s a big boy and can find his way in.  We step inside, and it is deadly quiet.  They have a big home, and when it is this quiet, you are dwarfed by the heavy silence.  We drop off the coke and bits in the kitchen.  Of course, Mordo brings in a few bottles of tequila.  He immediately cracks them open and starts his routine.  Lilliana asks what we want and we just mutter.  Nothing really.  We head upstairs and she brings a platter of some fried cheese and some shot glasses. We plop down on the couch and Lilliana pulls up a chair.  Mordo pours out some shots of tequila.  I grab some cheese.  Cesar is still sleeping.  Lilliana walks to a puny TV in the corner and turns it on.  The picture is fuzzy and a bit shaky.  She finds the channel she wants and there we have it, our own personal view of the Zocalo.  This will be party central of Mexico tonight.  We get to have front row seats and watch the festivities on a wobbly, fuzzy screen.

It is customary for the President to give a small speech, and then the ‘grito’ or simply translated ‘the yell or shout’, three vivas for Mexico.  If you are good Mexican, you scream back ‘VIVA MEXICO’.  If you live in North Mexico, then you fire off your illegal firearms you bought from proud Hispanics in LA.  This is not made up, but verified from Lilliana and Mordo.  Our big thrill should be going out on their roof and watching the fireworks over the city.

Cesar comes scooting out, very slowly.  He is obviously feeling like crap.  He has a tissue in one hand and keeps wiping his mouth and chin.  In his other hand is a can of beer, which he sips very slow.  He is miserable. He sits down and tells us of his rough night and why he is moving so slow.  I am wondering why he keeps wiping his mouth.  We had just shook hands, and I think he is wiping off left over vomit.  Now I don’t want to grab any more cheese off the tray.  Gross.  It turns out he is wiping himself because he is bleeding.  He cut himself shaving.  “You know bad I was?” he asks us.  “I got up and was trying to shave.  You see-I have no hair!” He says as he rubs his hand over his face, “I have no idea why I was trying to shave because I can’t grow hair on my face.  So, I cut myself shaving something that is not there!”  We all get a laugh at Cesar’s expense.  I feel good because now I know I can have some more cheese.

I am wondering what is going on with dinner.  I keep grabbing cheese.  Mordo keeps wanting to fill everyone’s’ glasses with another shot.  I keep asking when the President is going to give us instructions to yell.  No one seems to know.  Mordo says 11, Lilliana says 8 and Cesar mutters some other time.  “Don’t worry”, Cesar tells me, “We will watch it.  I want to yell at Calderon”.  This is when Cesar seems to wake up and start talking of the significance of tonight.  More to the point, he’s upset with the current state of Mexico, and even with the USA.  He claims that at least there are more freedoms and hope for Mexico than America.  This will baffle me all night.

It is after 9 now and I am getting really restless.  I am tired of fried cheese and I want my dinner.  Mordo is asking why I do not want to keep drinking. “Because, I have had enough.  I want food, not alcohol” is my simple, somewhat grumpy reply.  A few mutual friends pop in, as well as Lilliana’s kids.  We stand and give kisses and shake hands.  Everyone is friendly and lively.  A musician friend shows up and supposedly he has recently had some romantic corny hit on the radio.  He smiles a big smile and Cesar convinces him to sing some of his hit.  He does…and he sounds pretty good.  A small round of applause circles the room.  He disappears into a side studio to so some work.  We continue to sit and wait on dinner.  Cesar, for some reason, is keen on talking the merits of Socialism with me.  I can’t imagine the look on my face, still, I am a good sparring partner.  One of the other guests, Jean Pierre, is holding court with Mordo in a parallel conversation.

I am curious to see these Bicentennial celebrations. I keep throwing a glance to the TV to see what is going on.  There are musicians on.  There is an orchestra on.  There are commentators on.  At one point Cesar stands and points to the lady on TV.  He says he likes her and doesn’t understand why no one else does.  Obviously he is right, because no one says another word about her but just gets back to whatever conversations are happening.  Mordo comments that he wonders why we have to watch all of this on a crap TV.  “Why don’t they have a nice one, with an LED screen or something?” he says.

Mordo is curious about me wanting to eat and not drink.  Somehow this goes off on a tangent, about the eating schedules of Mexicans and Americans.  Jean Pierre is half French, so France is thrown in the mix.  Mordo keeps asking the same question, why everyone else does not eat like Mexicans.  He gets jean Pierre sidetracked because he wants to know what a certain word means…but he cannot remember the word.  He looks to me and says, “You know Roy Harper right?  He has an album with this name…” yes.  I do know Roy Harper but I have no clue what album he is talking about. Cesar is sitting beside me, milking beer after beer and starting to look puffier after each one. Jean Pierre is still confused, and is throwing different food terms out there.  He stumbles across the word Mordo was trying to think of, ‘hors d'oeuvres’.  “That is it!” Mordo says totally excited. “What does it mean, really?” he asks.  The next few minutes will be debating with a French guy what a French word means.  Mordo can be a real card at times.

Tonya and Lilliana come up the stairs with arms full of food.  They sit it all down at the table and call everyone over.  There is a huge bowl of spaghetti.  To be honest, I do not know if I have ever seen a bowl of pasta this big.  There is some bread and some chicken and salad too.  Lilliana and Tonya serve everyone a dish.  A birthday cheer is in order for Mordo, and we all raise our glasses and give Mordo a hearty and heartfelt wish.  I keep a keen eye on the TV in the corner.  I do not want to miss the famous shout.  The camera is panning the crowd at the Zocalo.  There is a giant statue lying down…huge!  I ask who it is.  Cesar takes a quick look and thinks it is an old Aztec leader.  Lilliana thinks it is Zapata.  No one can say who it is, especially as it lays there with a crowd around it.  I dig back in to the food.  I have at least 4 helpings of pasta.  I am starved.  We all talk about this and that while we eat and wait for the ‘grito’.  I look at Jean Pierre’s watch and see it is 10:44.  I look to the TV and see the giant statue starting to be raised. In excitement I yell, “Look!  The statue is being raised, its time for the yell!”  Cesar turns and looks over his shoulder.  He gets up to focus his bleary alcohol soaked eyes on the screen to see what is happening.  He stands and says as the statue is almost upright, “It’s Stalin!  Look!  Stalin!” and he points at the TV.  His kids on the couch laugh and tell him to shut up.  He comes to the table still saying it is Stalin.  I get a look as the statue is standing.  It does look like Stalin.  I re-affirm Cesar’s claim.  It is not Stalin though, but the ‘last revolutionary’ we are told form the commentators.  Cesar abruptly says that the ‘grito’ will be very soon, and we should get upstairs to watch the fireworks.  He gets up form the table, grabs three cans of beers and heads off to the roof.  Everyone is getting g up and starting to move.  Lilliana says we have to get the TV up on the roof.  I go to the TV and help her unplug it and I lug it up to the roof.  I want to see this, so I happily take this crummy TV up and outside.

As we go out on to the roof, Lilliana says for me to watch my step.  I take a giant stride over some pipes and wander to a clear spot.  Cesar comes out of the dark, and he is almost stumbling as he is laying out an extension cord.  “Here, put it on the table” he says.  There are two tables there, both identical. “Which one” I ask.  “The plastic one” he says. Hmm.  Two identical, white plastic garden tables side by side.  I choose a table and set it down.  Lilliana says “Watch out!  There is water on it!” and runs to get a towel.  I set the TV down, and then pull it back up.  Cesar is trying to plug it in while this is going on.  “We have to hurry” he says as he is on his knees trying to grab the cord form the TV.  Lilliana has a towel, and does a quick wipe and pats her hand on the towel, “Here.  Put it here” she instructs.  I set it down and almost seamlessly Cesar has it plugged in.  Lilliana reaches over and plugs it in.  As the screen flickers those standing behind me exclaim that it is the grito!  “It’s him!  It’s on!” yells Cesar.  I grab for my camera and get it just as Calderon is yelling the final ‘Viva Mexico!”  I can’t believe I have missed the whole ordeal.  As I watch him give the final cheer, I expect to hear the whole city rumble with pride.  All I hear is a few grumbles from behind my back and a stray ‘Viva!’ from someone in the dark.  I think it is Cesar.  Mordo is getting excited now, and he is insisting that Calderon is afraid of being assassinated at this very moment.

Cesar tells us to turn and look north, towards the Zocalo.  The fireworks are going off.  We all run to the opposite side of the roof to get a better view.  There are a few building in the line of sight, so we get a few flashes here and there.  I feel a bit cheated.  I missed the grito and now I am missing the fireworks.  I walk back to the fuzzy TV and watch the fun on there.  It seems as if the whole ordeal is done in about 10 minutes.  “Is that it?” I ask.  There are a few giggles and then Cesar says, “Yes, I guess so”.  The kids are giggling in a swinging chair.  I look to Tonya and exclaim, “Man.  We get a better show on an average po-dunk 4^th of July back in Houston!”  The kids seem to like this, as they all start laughing.  I think I even see Jean Pierre chuckle.  “It is because the Zocalo is lower than us” Lilliana says. “It is actually in a valley, and we are in the mountains.  We are looking down and our view is blocked form the trees and buildings” I stand for a minute and say, “But because we are higher-we should have a better view” I go back to the TV to see what is up.  They are showing London and Paris.  I immediately think it is like Nazi propaganda, ‘Look! The whole world is happy for Mexican Independence’.   Then there are images of Milan and Rome.  Mordo pulls me out of the flux when he taps me on the shoulder and says, “Can you believe we have to watch this on that little TV?”  I have to laugh, and so does he.

I wonder around the roof, looking ever expecting fireworks to erupt from somewhere else.  None.  A few pops and bangs can be heard in the distance.  I sit down for a few minutes and gaze to the scrawny, fuzzy TV.  There is boxing on.  I ask Lilliana if this is planned, is it really part of the celebration? Yes, it is.  She tells how Mexicans are proud of their boxers so now the country gets treated to a boxing match.  It is the same channel and the celebratory logo on the screen, so I guess it is so.  This is somewhat of a dud.  Thankfully, and unexpectedly, Tonya taps me on the leg.  She looks way beat.  She asks if I am ready. Of course.  Lilliana is asked to call us a cab.  She comes back a minute later and tells us to get moving downstairs, because the can will be here in two minutes.  I get up to say my goodbyes.  I see Cesar and Jean Pierre walking away towards Cesar’s studio.  As I walk in to say farewell, I see Cesar about to topple over a drum kit, then he sits on his stool, picks up some drum sticks and starts to solo.  I don’t know if it was a dare, or if he was just proving to Jean Pierre he could play drunk or what.  I stood there and watched until he finished.



We say our goodbyes and Cesar grabs me and intently tells me that I am welcome anytime in his home.  I appreciate it.  I like this guy.  I tell Jean Pierre to come over some time.  I give Mordo a big hug, and tell him happy birthday.  I go downstairs, grab my coat and head straight out to the cab where Tonya is standing and saying good bye to Lilliana.  I do the same, hop in and ride home without saying a word.  The cabbie has the radio on and he is playing the nights festivities at a high volume.  I suppose there are millions of people out there who are a having a great time.