Bad Bunny revisited

If I know anything about demographics (after 40 years in advertising I should) I know most of you watched the Super Bowl Halftime show. If for no other reason to flip a giant bird at the Klansmen who sadly run this country and the schmuck in the Ultra White House.

It was amazing. And this is from a guy who NEVER sticks around for the halftime shows. Especially as of late with Drake and Kendrick Lamar acting out their rap beef, which frankly I have no interest in.

I stuck around the TV during the break of one of the most boring football games, mostly because there was so much fuel put on the fire by a president and a GOP bent on dividing us. Fuck them. They missed what I think was a seminal event in American culture.

It has stuck with me for the past 48 hours and I couldn't help be reminded of my own experience at a Mexican wedding I attended in 1985, while Trump was still fighting off lawsuits about racial discrimination. 

I'm going to use real names because 40 some odd years have passed and it helps jog my fading memory. Also, I no longer stay in touch with any of the people I worked with at Bernard Homes Recruitment Advertising in Encino. It was my first copywriting job and where I cranked out Help Wanted ads, 15 per day. 

Assistant Manager Wanted, no exp. nec. -- as my friend Jim used to joke.

I was partnered with Bob Prado, a somewhat cranky 30 year old who had the funny demeanor of a much older veteran. We hit it off great. His younger sister Elaine worked on the other side of the creative department. When I say we were all like family, we literally were.

Elaine invited me to her wedding, actually I think she invited all of us. It was 35 miles away in Pico Rivera or Rancho Cucomunga, somewhere in LA that I had never been in my short SoCal tenure, at the time. 

I put on my best clothes and drove my dilapidated Toyota Corolla with the fractured steering wheel to the church and found myself surrounded by 600 people! Many co-workers and many folks who barely spoke any English, wearing sombreros and lacy dresses. 

I don't remember the ceremony mostly because I remember the reception. 

There was music. There was dancing. There were mariachis. There was an Open Bar.

But only for the first hour.

Keep in mind there were 600 people there. 

That's a lot of dinero. Before I could down my second shot of mescal, followed by a Tecate with lime, the red vested bartending staff whipped out their cash registers. Hours later, and many dances with pretty young hispanic ladies who mistook me and my thick mustache for being Mexican, my wallet was tapped. 

I don't remember many of the details, hopefully Elaine doesn't either, but I do remember grinning ear to grinning oreja. And I do remember that any wedding after that would pale to the joy, the togetherness, and the sheer intensity of celebrating the specialness of life. That's what we witnessed on Sunday Night.

I doubt the bubbled people watching Kid Rock and his mini Klan meeting ever have experienced anything like that.

Thank you Bad Bunny. Seriously, thank you.