Juan Show

So when we were at Papá's house on Tuesday, he was pumped up about the Juan Show.  Apparently there's a guy who impersonates someone named Juan Gabriel (I think) who is a famous Mexican singer.  Once a week he impersonates him at this bar and sings and does a comedy act.  Supposedly he sounds just like him.

We were supposed to get there at 9.  At ten til 8, Mabel poked her head into my room to suggest an 8:00 departure time from the house.  She had just dropped Cosette off at a neighbor's house.  I scurried to get ready (just had to change clothes since I was pretty from school that day).  I decided to wear a new $8 dress I had bought in Tucson.

We left the house and got to Papá's around 8:20.  No one was there.  Not one soul.  Not Maricela.  not Alma.  Not Papá.

Interesting.  

In we went and sat.  Mabel didn't have any credit on her phone, so she called Maricela from my phone to see what was up.  I hear her laughing, suggesting that someone is pregnant, and then telling her to hurry.

I grill her after she gets off the phone.

Maricela and Alma have gone to Malecón (where I used to run) to buy some papas locas (crasy potato chips- and they WERE crazy, though typically Mexican with lots of stuff mixed in) and some icee-like beverages with chile (chili powder which they put on LOTS of things).

Papá was at some friend's house.

Alma and Maricela came in and were ready but had non-straightened hair.  They got to straightening it and Carlos walked in (Maricela's BF).  Alma started telling stories fmor tehir childhood.  They all had their own beds, Mabel has told me, but they were all in the same room.  Alma started talking about how their mom used to straighten their hair on the bed.  They would have to hang their heads over the sides of the bed while she did it.  They would roll over into new positions to make sure she got it all.  There were some very funny parts to the story, and as Alma is a master story teller, we were all in the floor laughing at her.  One story led to another (including a visit to the Consulate to secure permission to go to Chicago one year with her mom), and thought Carlos and I were outsiders, we got a laugh out of it, too.  The girls laughed way more than we did, but we all enjoyed ourselves.

Papá finally waltzed in around 10, having been at the house of his new god-son.  The girls let him have it for being as old as he is (56, 57 on Sunday) and just now becoming a godfather again.

He changed his shirt and off we went.

Carlos has a pregnant truck as Bridget likes to call it (four door-the kind with a backseat), so we all climbed in.  Four girls in back; the men up front.

We got to the place, found parking, and headed in.  Papá, as usual, paid the cover (50 pesos a head).  Maricela, the genius, had brought a basically empty purse because it looked cute, but without her ID.  They said she could go in , but no one could order while she was there until she went back home to get it.  We went in while Carlos and Mari returned home.

We decided on a table where we would be able to see.  At this point there was NO TROUBLE seeing as the place was EMPTY.

We sat and Alma ordered some chicken wings and fries for the table (she was who Mabel was accusing of being pregnant for her hefty appetite- I figure she's just starving from being on a dancer's diet all her life- coupled with her light-headedness she had complain about to Papá) as well as carne fría.  That sounded interesting: cold meat.  Hot dogs.  Everywhere I go they're eating hot dogs!  It was cut up hot dogs, cut up processed ham, cheese and olives served with toothpicks.  Bleh!

Mabel ordered her signature winter drink: tequila and squirt.  The rest of the table got a bucket of beers.  Alma poured her beer into a glass of lemon juice, soy sauce and something else, rimmed in chile.  Also yuk.  I tried it.  Not a fan, though it doesn't taste like beer.

I had a Coca Light.

ARound 11:25, still no Juan, so Papá asked.  He was supposed to be there in 20 minutes.  Rrrright.  Mañana.

They ordered another bucket of beers.

At 12:15, in he walked.  He was not my favoritre singer, and aside from the fact that humor is hard in another language, he didn't speak very clearly.

Papá and Alma were not big fans either.  Alma has been ruined by "the big city" so that no show is good enough, but if I were a dancer in a Broadway equivalent, I would be the same.

During the show, Alma kept us entertained with more stories.  All her stories are about DF, which could be annoying if you were so proud of Culiacán and disappointed that your sister had moved.  They just laugh at her stories about getting stuck between people on the subway so that you get dragged off at a stop you don't want to just because it's so full you can't move!  She had gestures to go with, which makes the story!

She also tried to teach Carlos to salsa at Maricela's request.  While she was teaching him (he must've looked really bad), a waiter came up to "relieve" Alma and danced with her.  Obviously being a trained dancer, she's pretty amazing!

I had visions of my lessons in Guatemala with Diego and I was not nearly as coordinated or graceful, and I was in tennis shoes; she was in super-high heels.

That was fun to watch.

After as much as we could handle (Juan Show and alcohol) we left around 2.  He was still going strong, but some of us had to work on Thanksgiving!

:)

I must go to bed now because this week has taken its toll: starting in Tucson and ending at 2am with Juan Show.  I have more tomorrow-photos of the fam with explanations.