Dipping into the underground, ever so slightly

It became difficult to tell who was being friendly and who was merely being drunk, who was male or who was female, as in, acting in accordance to their gender or in rebellion to it, who was Mexican or who was foreign, or a mix of both, and, a final de cuentas, whether any of it mattered. The point was, there in the Centro Historico of Mexico City at 2 or 3 a.m., in the haze and laughter, everyone seemed very committed to the ritual at hand.