Iván and I got to his house and the party had started. I was pretty surprised. There were about 10-15 people already there. Apparently I was supposed to already know some of them. I knew none of them. The majority of them had been at Iván’s birthday dinner at T.G.I.Friday’s (that we showed up to just in time to leave) as well as the party at his house (that we left early to go to a club). At neither place was I introduced to these people, so even had I recognized their faces, I wouldn’t have known their names.
The main characters for this entry are:
Iván- party host, friend of Alma, met him at another birtday party in December, complimented my Spanish
Jared- apparently I had seen him at both parties but had no recollection, very tall guy, pretty heavy set, one of two others cheering for the Cardinals, speaks great English and started the program Inglés en Primaria (English in Elementary).
Marco- teacher in Inglés en Primaria, danced line dances at teacher Posada, speaks great English, met him at same birthday party that I met Iván, also complemented my Spanish, but noted my accent.
Topete- good friend of Alma’s (aren’t they all?), reminds me of Goolsby, first met him in October at Liliana’s birthday party at a bar.
Liliana- good friend of Alma, teaches kindergarten with Rocio (birthday party last weekend with the pool table), nice enough, but never went out of her way to be nice to me personally (never more conversation than a greeting).
Back to the story…
So I walk in not knowing too many people. There are many more people throughout the night, but the above people are the ones who play a part in the story. I get introduced to anyone I don’t know (and thankfully even the people I was apparently supposed to know).
In the den, there is a wrap-around couch facing the tv as well as about 6 plastic patio chairs. These chairs are a staple in Mexican houses. At this time, there are about 6 people in the room: Marco and his girlfriend, Jared and Pris (who I think at the time is his girlfriend, but isn’t) and two guys whose names I can’t remember. One of them is a roommate. There are another handful of people out on the patio working the grill. I didn’t realize it at the time, but there was another small tv set up out there. Jared asks for a show of hands of Cardinal fans. The guy whose name I didn’t know (not the roommate), Jared and I were the lone souls. In a room of 6, that’s not bad, but throughout the evening, Steelers numbers increased, and Cardinals numbers stayed the same.
Liliana and her boyfriend (name?) came in after the first quarter had started. When she saw me, she gave me a warmer smile than she has ever given before. She actually looked excited to see me. However, she ended up sitting other people on the couch and looking at me (like a science project) but not speaking to me. More of the same. I have a major issue with that here. I have INCREDIBLE girl friends at home. I would venture to say I have the best friends a girl could have. I try really hard to be a good friend, so my friends are really good to me, too. I choose well. Here, I have made good friends with Alma, but none of the other girls. (After this weekend in Mazatlán with the 3 amigas, I have changed my stance on this.) It is bothersome, but poco a poco that’s changing.
Jared and I were high five buddies throughout the night. Obviously we were pretty mellow for the whole game. However, the first great play the Cardinals had (who knows what it was, but I think it was in the second quarter), Jared had been outside fixing his plate or visiting with others and he came running in, gave me the hardest loudest high five you’ve ever seen or heard and did a little dance. Hilarious. Good thing I’m tough, because everyone was worried I was hurt; it was that hard.
Halftime was a little slow, especially considering my man Bruce didn’t even play Born in the USA. (Oh, I forgot to include the fact that we were watching ESPN Vivo, meaning the commentators were Mexican. So were the commercials. Boo. But I heard the commercials were nothing to write home about, and I geekily enjoyed improving my Spanish.) After the halftime show, all the Steelers fans (numbering in the 30s at this point) relished every replay in the recap. Of course it all favored their team. I was less than thrilled.
The second half of the game was the best part. I mean, it obviously would’ve been better if we’d won, but whatever. I’m used to my teams losing. The action of the second half, though at least made it interesting. I think in the third quarter was when Arizona did something incredible. So incredible, of course, that I’ve forgotten it. But I think it might’ve been an interception that turned into a touchdown? Or was it just a really good pass to touch down? Either way, it came out of nowhere and I started running to the door to go high five Jared (he was in and out getting beer, cooking, etc). About the time I near the doorway, he comes running in. He’s screaming with his hands up. I go to high five him and he picks me up and spins me around about 5 times. It was absolutely hysterical. He then set me down and did a booty dance, took off his jersey to reveal his superman shirt underneath, and twirled his jersey over his head. We were all cracking up. My cheeks were beginning to hurt it was that funny!
The game ended, and unfortunately my team lost. I was very mellow for the next little bit. All the outside people ended up coming in to join the group and the tv went off and the stereo came on. Topete proved to be a Goolsby clone by making himself DJ. He put in a mix CD of music that could’ve easily come off my “recently played” list on my iPod; Justin Timberlake, Kanye West and Rihanna are the only artists I can remember off the top of my head. We all were just sitting around calmly jamming in our seats, when CoA (Center of Attention) Jared decides it’s dance time. He dances alone for a song or two. He’s pretty funny dancing. Mexican dancing and US dancing are just different (like everything else). So seeing them try to booty dance is pretty much hilarious.
I was watching, as was everyone else, but my mind was racing. I was preparing my move with my football buddy Jared. During a Justin Timerlake song, I get up while he’s not looking and break it down beside him. If you’ve ever watched Hitch with me, you know the part where Alexa and Albert are dancing and he breaks it down. It’s hilarious mostly because Alexa doesn’t realize it. Well, Jared realized it, so that was different, but it was SO FUNNY.
(I’m not trying to toot my own horn here. I’m just telling the story like it was to those that want to hear it. If it sounds braggy, sorry you had to read it.)
I will admit that I am not always hilarious. I’m not even always funny. But this time, I was freakin’ hysterical. My humor is usually on the side. I prefer to sit and make dry comments that only the people near me hear and cause them to chuckle. I typically sidestep the spotlight. Because of this, when I do step into the spotlight, I make it worth my while. The importance of this move was that a, it made everyone laugh and see my crazy side, but b, that Liliana found it hilarious enough that she came over and started talking to me.
After the dance party (or should I say solo and duo), we started playing darts. The darts set was a magnetic one. I’m terrible at darts. I’m not surprised, but it was confirmed this summer when I was out with the teachers. I’m terrible.
I sat quietly to the side as four or five people took their turns. Iván then offered me my turn. I turned it down for the moment. Others went. Some were really good; some were really terrible. I took a turn and wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t good. I think of the 6 darts, three or four made it to the board. There were others who threw that didn’t get any on there, so I didn’t feel awful.
Iván took his turn after everyone had had at least one shot and it was evident that the dartboard belonged to him. At that point, he was banned from playing.
I got up for my second turn and as I was about to make my first shot, someone turned the lights out. I don’t think it was intentional. I threw a bull’s eye! What about that?! I just knew I had good form somewhere inside of me. So for the next five darts, I covered my eyes with my left hand and threw with my right. That got even more laughs, but I actually wasn’t doing it to be funny. I was hoping to get it on the board. I didn’t get any more bull’s eyes, but I did get four of the five on the board.
Later, the darts game turned into funny competitions: left handed, under the leg, backwards, from the kitchen, eyes closed. You can guess which one I won. By the end of the night, though, I had practiced enough to have decent form with my eyes open. I wasn’t near the bull’s eye, but I was on the board every time.
After the darts game, the music changed. The crowd began to change, too. Several people left. It was 10 by now. The music was all Mexican or Latino. I was fighting sleep anyway (after two late nights with little sleep), so the music did not help. I was yawning uncontrollably. Alma, who had said she would be there around 7 after eating in Altata, was still not there. I sent her a text. She was going to take me home. She made it seem like she was still coming, but upon follow up, she was still in Altata. I told Iván, and he was like, “No way is she coming.” I don’t know if Alma is just Mexican (they have a tendency to tell you what you want to her even if they know the truth is the contrary), or if she has grand plans that get changed due to other circumstances. Either way, I found it pretty funny that Iván was not the least bit surprised.
At this point, there was a crowd outside (probably about six people) and a crowd inside: Liliana and her boyfriend, Topete and Iván. Topete and Liliana’s boyfriend apparently were dancers in some sort of group in high school. So for each song, they seemed to have a choreographed dance. Liliana was not in the group, but had been to all the shows, so she knew some of the moves.
Later, the music turned to salsa-able music. I danced one song. I was thankful for my lessons in Guatemala in the summer of 07. Diego had taught me well. We had one-hour lessons five days a week for two weeks. I learned quite a bit. Most of what he taught me was completely choreographed. He would tell me the steps, we would practice them, and then he would do the boy part while I did the girl part. We didn’t do much freestyle where the girl just keeps the beat with her feet and lets the guy basically twirl her around wherever. When Alma (sister) was in town and we went to the Juan Show, there was a waiter that came to dance with her when she was trying to teach Carlos. Watching Alma (a dancer by profession) dance with a guy who knew what he was doing was pretty cool. All in heels no less.
I was not great because I like to know what I’m doing before I do it, but I was better than your average gringa, if I do say so myself. There I go tootin’ that horn again.
Around 1, we retired from darts and dancing and a new crowd of three girls showed up. I met them, but again, they weren’t interested in anything I had to say. They started the whole singing and dancing act again. Jared helped. Again, really funny. At this point, Iván got a text from Mayra who had been with Alma saying that she was back at home and hoped we had all had fun. We decided there was no hope for Alma, so Iván said he’d take me whenever I was ready.
Well, the three girls suddenly got an interest in me. They started asking questions about the US and why I “didn’t drink.” I explained that I didn’t like beer and they were like, “Honey, nobody likes beer, but that’s what there is.” We talked about the differences in everything. They told me Spanish was the hardest language to learn, which all Mexicans say. They have a partial point because of conjugations (every subject pronoun [I, you, he, she, it, we, they, y’all] has a different verb conjugation whereas in English there are typically just two conjugations [I run, You run, We run, They run, Y’all run, He/She/It runs]), but it’s not hard. But I’m not about to say it’s easy and then make a fool of myself being unable to talk. There was a guy listening in and asking some questions. He was the third Cardinals fan, but I never got his name. We had also had a dart competition (I think he probably beat me), too, but I never caught his name. When you meet 25 people at a time, it’s hard to keep them all straight.
(I’m realizing I pretty much never included Marco in the story. Just suffice it to say that I was glad he was there because I know him well enough to sit and chat for awhile. His girlfriend was really nice, and he gave me a hard time about the game, which is always fun.)
So, back to me. Ha! I was talking to these three girls and the guy and he ends up asking where I’m from. He apparently missed the first bit of the US geography lesson with the girls. Then he said- brace yourselves. Make sure you’re seated. Then he said, “but you’re from here, right?” I wanted to fall in the floor and bow at his feet. I said, no and explained the whole exchange thing again (he must’ve been outside when I began this with the girls). He said my Spanish was really, really good and that he thought I was from here. He had been listening to me all night and never knew. WOW! I told him he would be able to tell now that he knew, but he said I definitely didn’t sound like a gringa. Not sounding like a gringa is not the highest compliment because the definition of sounding like a gringo is basically not rolling your r’s. Well, I should hope I’m beyond that! But then he went on to say that my accent was excellent and that it sounded much more Spanish than English. Great! Thank you Sir With No Name!
Around 2:30 (in the middle of this conversation), I’m noticing that Iván has disappeared. I know he can’t be gone for good because it’s his house and he has work the next day (unlike teachers who had Monday off). I continue my conversation until 3, when Topete comes in to give us all our goodbye kisses (and the guys their goodbye handshakes with back-patting hugs). He pulls me from the group and asks me if I’m ready to go home. I said sure. I wasn’t tired anymore due to the active conversation, dancing/singing, and darts of the past two hours, but I figured if he was offering, I should take him up on it. He asked me how I had planned on getting home and I said that Iván was going to take me. He asked me where Iván was and I said I had no idea. I went back to Iván’s bedroom to get my purse and such and he was asleep on top of the bed. I asked him what was up, waking him, and told him Topete was taking me. I have arrived in the social aspect of Mexico. I made it past 3 am three nights in a row, and I out-stayed-awake the host at one of those! I will admit that this is my first Superbowl party that has gone much past ten, no less 3 am. But I’m actually finally getting used to the staying up. Luckily, I had Monday off to try to sleep late or nap if that didn’t work out.
It turns out Topete lives only about 5 blocks from me. I was turned around, so we ended up going the wrong way from where his house was, but we got there. He spoke very slow (which made it funny, though I tried very hard not to laugh) English the whole way. When we got to my house, he walked me to the door. This is also very Mexican. When the girls took me to the bus station in Mazatlán, they parked and came in with me. There’s no dropping at the curb. In DF, when Shania’s cousin (Shory) took me to the airport after the weekend in Tepoztlán, he parked, walked in with me, checked in with me, and walked me to the security checkpoint. It was funny, though, that Topete was doing it, because the distance from the sidewalk to my door is about seven steps.
By the time I got home (I think he drove 20 miles per hour the whole way-it took over 30 minutes) and ready for bed, it was 4 am.
Oh, Mexico.
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