Men in Tights

Yes, it's true that we've settled into domestic life pretty comfortably here in Oaxaca.

Yes, we have a 10-class yoga membership, a video rental card, nightly salsa lessons, a yellow lab, a first-name relationship with a local vegetable seller and 90 year-old neighbors who talk our ears off whenever we come home.

But does that mean we've become totally complacent and unfun? No way! I mean, it did take us 3 weeks to take our first swig of mezcal and we haven't stayed up past midnight yet, but damnit, we're still cool. We went to see Mexican wrestling!

The "Lucha Libre" is kind of like what would happen if the WWF (nee WWE) took advantage of NAFTA and outsourced its minor minor minor league south of the border. It's got all the key stuff - people alternately screaming into a mic and slamming each other into the ground, rabid fans who dress like their favorite stars, folding chairs to spice up the action, and most importantly, oily men with huge pecs. It also has midgets. And goats. And midgets dressed like midget goats.

We made our way to the local high school gym, grabbed some seats, and sat in a strange mix of awe and ennui as men costumed like clowns, cumbia dancers, huns, barbarians, and, yes, goats pretended to beat each other up.

I'll spare you the blow-by-blow descriptions except to say that the absolute highlight of the night was in the first of five matches, when the midget goat entered the ring and proceeded to hurl itself repeatedly into the opposing team's asses. It was all downhill from there.

But there was something beautiful about watching fathers and sons in the alcohol-free crowd bonding over the bitch slaps in front of them, and then leaving the echoing gymnasium into the late-night streets of Oaxaca knowing that American culture is not alone in its moments of absolute degeneration.

--rahul

ps. In a couple hours, my beloved Oakland A's start a 4-game series against the, ahem, Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim. To have any real chance of going to the playoffs, they have to sweep all four games. For those of you more theistically inclined than me, if you wouldn't mind giving Huston Street and the rest of the boys a shout-out tonight when you're talking with God, I'd appreciate it. Go A's.