I’ve been hearing about this Lucha VaVoom Mexican masked wrestling/striptease phenomenon going down at The Mayan for some time now. I hate missing out on dope events, so I thought I’d finally check it out. Bad idea.
My partner-in-crime/hypochondriac friend decides to get sick on me at the last minute so I’m left dateless. I thought about inviting my dad since he works downtown, but he gets off work at 5 and the show didn’t start til 8, so I roll solo.
Hill Street was packed with drunk costumed 30-somethings waiting to get inside. Parked in front of The Mayan were old school cars and hot rods with funeral stickers taped onto the windshields. I grabbed my wristband from will call and hurried inside to see what all the fuss was about.
The crowd was a mixture of white trash 40-year-olds, artsy types, and Latino tailgaters. I couldn’t pinpoint where I fit in exactly, but took a seat ringside anyways. A half an hour and ten beers spilled on my back later, the show began with a striptease. Thank God I didn’t invite my dad, I thought. How awkward would it be sitting beside him watching some frosted-hair hoochie strip down to a G-string and pasties?
After the Prince-look-alike took it all off and all the men went ga ga, I was kinda over the striptease part of things. I wanted to see some luchadores already!
When the fighting finally started, flashbacks of watching WWF wrestling with my brother on Saturday mornings came rushing back to me. This is what LuchaVaVoom is all about? Fake fighting with a lot of drama? I guess.
The performances were entertaining and I can’t deny that this kind of thing would have been way better with a co-pilot, but watching greasy men get body slammed on the ground is not exactly my idea of a night well spent. I would’ve much rather been in bed reading Brides and Sinners in El Chuco. Call me boring.