Feliz año nuevo!

For our last night in Mexico - New Year's Eve - I did my research. 

Greg had initially suggested that we drive from Guanajuato City to the pyramids at Teotihuacan, spend the night there, and then go to the airport the next day. 

There were a number of reasons why that plan would have ended up being a bad choice. 

The pyramids are an hour from the airport, and while our flight left at 9:30 in the morning - not too too horrible - we had to return the rental car (which we had slightly damaged). We also needed to get there early enough to deal with COVID checks (which it turned out I had, despite having tested negative the day before) and all of the bullshit that international flights entail. It would have made for a stressful morning.

Plus, New Year's Eve! Fun! Party! I doubted that there was going to be much going on out by the pyramids. But according to all of the articles and blog posts I found, there was fun to be had in Mexico City.

For example, Newyearsevelive.net posited the question, "where do you head for on new years eve to find the biggest party to welcome 2022?" They answered their own question thusly:

In Mexico City there's only one answer, and that's the enormous street party on the famous Zocalo, the main square right in the heart of the city.

The party area spreads out right across the central area, with roads closed from Palacio de Bellas Artes to Paseo de la Reforma Boulevard.

The party itself gets underway earlier in the day and contains everything you would expect to find at a Mexican street party, live music from popular bands, dancing, colourful costumes, a plentiful supply of food and of course the huge fireworks display at midnight.

It sounded very promising. 

So I booked us a room in a cool hotel half a block off the Zocalo. We drove from Guanajuato, saw the pyramids at Teotihuacan (which we weren't able to climb because of COVID), drove to the airport to return the car, and then took an Uber into town. We showered and put on our party clothes and headed out to the Zocalo. 

No one was there. 

Well, maybe there were 100 or so people milling around. But you have to understand that the Zocalo is absolutely enormous. A vast square surrounded by big, imposing old colonial buildings - it holds over  100,000 people. So 100 or so people is nothing. It's like some ants scurrying around a tennis court. 

It was clear that preparations had been underway. There were amusement park rides set up and evidence that a party was going to happen. But the centro was dark and blocked off. It was almost eerie. 

Not exactly the scene we were expecting

Had the party been planned but canceled at the last minute because of COVID?* Where were the people? Where were the bands? Where were the "colourful costumes" and the "plentiful supply of food?"

We were disappointed and confused. We were also hungry.

We decided to look for something to eat. Greg would be on his phone and find something promising, but we would head over there and it would be shuttered. This happened a couple of times. Then we just started meandering down different streets, and I am not exaggerating when I tell you that nothing was open except for a KFC and maybe a Starbucks. We were in the heart of downtown on New Year's Eve in one of the major cities of the world, and every single restaurant was closed and boarded up. 

"What is going on?" I wailed. "This is one of the biggest party nights of the year! Don't people want to make money?"

It was completely baffling.

We were walking down a street and it sounded like there was a party on the upper floor of a building we passed. A guy in front of the building saw us looking up at where the noise was and said, "are you interested in going to the event?" 

Our hunger and our desire to participate in something festive won out over our suspicion that we might end up lying in a bathtub with missing kidneys, so we went in a back door and up some stairs to a big room blasting music that made a bass-heavy oontz-oontz sound. It was sparsely populated and felt dingy. We paid our 80 pesos (about $4) to get in, found seats by the window and away from the speakers, and ordered what turned out to be aggressively mediocre hamburgers and aggressively weak margaritas.

Not only was the food shitty, but it was served on plates covered with plastic so the dishes wouldn't get dirty. In an act of rebellion, we removed the plastic and smeared ketchup all over the plates, because we're mature like that. 

"This is ridiculous," Greg said.

"Is this really what our night is going to be like? I can't stay here," I said. 

More phone research told us that one of the super tall buildings nearby had a swanky party in their rooftop restaurant, so we headed that way to see if we could get in. At the entrance, we met a security guard who told us it was sold out. 

"Where is everyone?" I asked. "Why are all of the restaurants and bars closed?"

"Because it's New Year's," he said. "People stay home on New Year's."

I wasn't inclined to argue this patently absurd assertion, so we left and took a stroll in the Alameda Central, a huge, lovely public park right next to the Palacio de Bellas Artes. The Palacio is stunning. The park was quiet and peaceful, with a canopy of trees overhead.

After admiring a Diego Rivera mural on the far side of the park, we started to walk back towards the Zocalo. When we saw a Hilton hotel, we figured that at the very least, we could get a drink at the bar. It was worth a shot.

Inside, it looked encouraging. There were some people were hanging out and watching college football. We walked up to the bar and tried to order drinks, only to be told that they had closed 3 minutes before. 

Of course. I mean, it was 9:33 on New Year's Eve. What possible reason would they have to be open? 

"What the actual fuck," we muttered.

"Is there another restaurant in the hotel that might be open?" I asked the bartender.

"You can try the restaurant upstairs," he shrugged.

So we took the elevator upstairs. The floor was dark and empty and quiet, and naturally, the restaurant was closed. But I heard music and party sounds coming from the floor above. We decided to investigate. 

The closest way up was an escalator that had been turned off. We stumbled up it in the dark, sliding around barricades at the top, and found ourselves at the end of a floor. At the other end was a party! Yay!

What we had discovered was the Hilton's official New Year's Eve party - the big cheesy kind you buy tickets to because you can't think of anything else to do. There was a band and a huge buffet and assigned tables and drinks. It seemed like nirvana.

We loitered out in the hall, watching people have their pictures taken next to oversized inflated bottles of champagne or whatever. Finally, Greg and I looked at each other, decided that "act like you belong" was our strategy, and marched in with confidence.  

We stood for a while at the side of the room checking out the scene.  Men in sports coats, women looking like they were dressed either for the prom or as a mother-of-the-bride. There was a woman singing covers and working the crowd like a lounge act. It was exactly what you would expect.

We weren't going to sit at somebody's table - that would have been weird. We were trying to figure out what to do when a waiter-looking dude approached us. 

"Can I help you?" he asked. "Can I show you to your table?"

"Oh, we just wanted to stand up here so we could hear the singer," I said. I looked at Greg and he nodded at me encouragingly.

We're going to be so busted, I thought to myself.

But then the guy said, "can I at least get you a drink?"

"Um, yes! That would be great!"

A waiter walked by with a tray of tequila shots.

"Could we have some tequila?" I asked.

"Of course!"

So we each had a tequila shot. They were delicious and much-needed, if perhaps not the greatest combination with the questionable food we had eaten earlier. We hung out for a little bit and decided that we shouldn't stay too much longer, but that at least one more free drink was in order. 

Act like you belong.

I walked over to a bar stand with a bunch of shots set out.

"¿Podemos tener alguna, por favor?" I asked the bartender.

"Claro," the bartender responded. 

I grabbed two, and we each did another tequila shot. Feeling warm and loose, fortified with decent liquor, we decided to venture out to see what other mischief we could get into. 

 One of the more random things we encountered as we made our way through the streets

After strolling down the street and people-watching for a bit, we found another party, this time with a crowd and salsa music. The restaurant was full of people drinking and dancing. The music was hopping. We stayed and had some fun. I danced around as Greg sat on his bar stool, and we laughed and talked about our trip. 

Then a band gathered on the stage - they had some horns, so we figured maybe it was a mariachi band. We were excited - mariachi music can be really fun and wonderful. 

But it turned out that they were, in Greg's words, the loudest and crappiest Mexican high school marching band ever. So loud. So unpleasant. 

"When they headed onto the stage, they had so much promise," he sighed. I could only laugh. 

It was 11:30 at that point, so we decided to go back to the Zocalo and finish the night there. 

A little crowd had gathered near a countdown clock. At midnight, everyone smooched and wished each other a happy new year.

We kissed and smiled at each other. It was a beautiful night and we were a little tipsy. We agreed that on reflection, and in spite of all the craziness - because of it, actually - it had been a great and unforgettable night. 

Or at the very least, it made for a great story. 

*It turned out that's exactly what happened. The mayor of Mexico City had decided at the last minute to cancel everything, which surprised us because the COVID protocols in Mexico were strict and everybody followed them, even outside.