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Los Sucesores del Norte and 97.7 fm took over part of the Zocalo, and their crowd of listeners were watching as far back as the Cathedral, as they had one of those giant screens broadcasting music videos, that had an element of novella, dance competitions (a lady in short shorts from South Korea won), advertisements for Apple, Facebook, YouTube, and images of the singers themselves.

The five cowboys on stage wore tight white uniforms and red shirts beneath. They donned bright white cowboy hats, and most had a thick black mustache. They lead the crowd in singing and dancing. Next to me, a father grabbed one of his teenage daughters. Embarrassed, she dug her face into his shoulder for a dance or two. Then, he danced with his older daughter. She seemed more accustomed to being his dance partner. A child with a bubble pipe, like most of the rest of us, bobbed and weaved to the thrumming ballads.

And, as if I didn’t remember I was in Mexico already, I was reminded by the blasts of fire on the stage, the occasional images of tremendous fire on the screen, and the fountain of fire from the stage’s frame.

The band led the crowd in a shout by all of the men in the crowd: three short and fist cries. Then they gave a shout out to all of the beautiful women, women without boyfriends, and single women out. The singer urged: Raise your hand if you don’t have a boyfriend. Then, he quickly asked, “What, you haven’t been working? You need to work to find a boyfriend.” We all laughed and danced together in the occasionally lit darkness.

banda

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