The beer is overpriced, the popcorn is stale and the seats are uncomfortable as hell, but the pure-unadulterated ridiculousness that ensues is worth every centavo. This is Lucha Libre, Mexico’s WWF wrestling. Barring masks, comical costumes and a flare for showmanship, these Mexicans know to rumble. There are the usual attractive and scantily dressed ring girls who parade around the ring giving the dads in the crowd the extra incentive to believe this is real wrestling as well as the token midget wrestler who is used as a cannon ball and thrown at different wrestlers in the ring. However, going to the match is only half the fun. The other half comes with participation. You can buy your own mask for a mere 50 pesos ($4) and live the experience. For me, it was all part of the social atmosphere. As I spoke with one of the ring girls with exceptionally large boobs before the show, where I dully noted that she thought the mask made me quite “guapo”. Well thank you – I shall wear this to sleep. It must have added to my mystique as there were no other drunk gringos there donning masks to dilute my popularity amongst the natives.
I had as much fun after the show with my new mask. I made friends with all my fellow Lucha Libre fans on walk outside the arena. Nearby the venue in Guadalajara is the famous Mariachi District, where for some reason hundreds of mariachis hang out in the streets trying to look busy. So at that given moment, it was one hundred maricachis and myself owning the night. And the night we owned. We played pool, drank beers, and hung out in the Oxxo (7-11 – I am so grown up. My parents are proud). Along the main promenade, a slew of bars line the streets playing Mexican ranchero and banda music. Not wanting to stop the Mexican party train, I decided to peruse some of the venues. As with the ring girls and mariachis, the mask also proved to be a blockbuster addition to the party. I had my pick of unattractive and over-hill-ladies at the bar. Dancing, smoking, drinkin’…Oh Lucha Libre, you have won my corazon.
*(Below are some stellar photos and a non-existent video of my dance with these hot Latina damsels. But I wanted to show you this as overwhelming evidence that all humans are not in fact created equal. For to be considered an equal, one must be able to have the minimal human species ability of pointing a camera in one direction and clicking a button, my Canadian and Australian compadres in arms did not possess such skills).