Cinco de Mayo. Nearly every person I work with asked me what my big plans were. Without a second thought, I would say, "Working." They then would respond with, "Well, yeah but after?" or "That sucks; I requested off." About three of these people were actually Mexican.
East LA had a line out the door. People walked around with glowing Corona necklaces. My friend called me and when I answered yelled a high pitch "arriba!" then burst out laughing, saying he screamed this to every customer who walked into his bar. He is a white boy from Detroit.
I do not need an excuse to go drinking. If I want a drink, I will drink. Why is there an incessant need for an excuse to celebrate life? Furthermore, Mexico is a country often looked down upon by Americans. People debate Immigration Laws and often say we need illegal Mexicans to do the "dirty" work (ie: landscapers, dishwashers, and the cooks in a predominant amount of restaurants).
In the white suburb I grew up in there was one house where about ten Mexicans lived and my friends referred to them as "petunias" since they were "sceevy" and drove around in a van together whistling at girls. Those same friends updated there facebook status' yesterday with "drinking margaritas in lieu of the holiday."
The sad thing is, the Mexicans who have pride and a reason to commemorate the day, were the ones serving and cleaning up after Hoboken's drunken youth. And probably laughing at them.
So on each fifth of May I am reminded how stupid my peers are; however, I also remember on that date in 2005 I took my ex's virginity. I rather celebrate that.