Friday, December 23, 2005

Photo: Late Night Procession

Imagine Christmas caroling, but instead of a band of singers, you're strolling down a main street with several trucks blaring the holy songs from massive speakers, at such high decibels that windows and walls tremble with excitement, at well past midnight. As you walk and dance and sing, people along the route, including a rum-fueled woman who has decided to start screaming out "Che Guevara" at steady intervals, join you, and soon you've awoken everyone in the area, except those who are so dead-tired or smart enough to wear earplugs that they don't hear you. But even the people who hear you are cheered by your merriment and can't stay upset longer than a few seconds. They come out of their rooms, peek at you, debate whether to get dressed and come along for a little bit, then decide they'll go back to sleep, but with brief memories of how much fun you were obviously having and how much they had before only traces of your melodies lingered and you and the fellow processionists were already several blocks on.

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