I was walking in the park, late one night
When my eyes beheld an eerie sight
For creatures appeared just over the rise
And suddenly to my surprise

They did the mash, they did the San Miguel mash
The San Miguel mash, it was a graveyard smash
They did the mash, it caught on in a flash
They did the mash, they did the San Miguel mash

— Apologies to Bobby “Boris” Pickett

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Tell me. And be honest. When you go for a walk, do you come across sights like this?

Now, I’m not talking about those days when you light up a ginormous blunt, or drop way too much Psilocybin or Ayahuasca. Lord knows what can be seen on those days.

No, I’m talking about your normal everyday walk through the woods when you encounter dancing skeletons, talking rabbits, bobble-headed Scotsmen, cabbage-headed kings and queens, and struttin’-stuffin’ dogs. Accompanied by a Mariachi band with some pretty hot licks.

You know.

_{(Click on each picture to enlarge:)}

Like today.

This parade was cavorting its way around Parque Juarez around 5:30 p.m. and it was like no other parade I have seen in the park.

Sure, on a Friday or Saturday, there are lots of wedding promenades — usually lead by bride-and-groom-mojigangas, a pack mule and its sombreroed and bandelleroed caballero, and the bride and groom, the Mariachi band, and the rest of the wedding guests.

But this.

This I could not explain.

I felt like Alice after secretly taking the yellow pill that she found hidden under the red and blue ones.

What? Do you think she found talking playing cards, a smoking caterpillar, and a jittery waistcoated rabbit all on her own?

Oh, please.

The girl was rolling in it.

I wasn’t. Not today.

This is a for-real deal.

Although, it wasn’t Halloween.

And it wasn’t Dia de Muertos.

And it wasn’t the aftermath of a bit of something that I ate.

The whole dancing boneyard gang ended up at the park gazebo where a punk Alice and her skeleton pal twirled themselves into a frenzy as the band played on. Everyone else formed a circle around the bandshell and boogied, too.

It was all just lovely and mystifying and oddly reassuring.

And I have no idea what it all means, except that I plan to spend more time in that park. Maybe hunting mushrooms. Maybe sitting on a bench reading a book. Or perhaps just walking my trusty talking dog, Moppit.

Because … you just never know unless you are out there.

And today was really out there.

God, I love San Miguel.

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