About a week ago, I attended my first Mexican wrestling match. The night was everything I expected: full of well rehearsed moves, hilarious theatrics, and cold cans of Modelo. It was also a night of surprises. Firstly, there was a lot of slapping, and I mean full on bitch slaps that never ceased to send me into hysterics. Then there was the final match, which commenced with the headlining wrestler entering the ring, carrying a box of 3-foot fluorescent tube lights. But, most surprising of all had to be the dancing.
(I apologize for the shakiness of this video. In my defense, it wasn’t easy to hold the camera in one hand and a Modelo in the other, while balancing a bag of popcorn covered in hot sauce in my lap.)