Boat Drinks and Big Mato

If there's one crowd Daddy Yankee should not be unleashed upon, it's the New Years family dinner crowd at the nautical-club restaurant at the Escobar country club. But I'm sure that's exactly what the DJs had in mind when they ripped into a heavy reggaeton set around two in the morning right before the tie-clad waiters brought out the lemon ice cream. I can see the logic: I may be stuck DJing a country club on New Year's Eve, but there's no way in hell I ain't throwing down some Big Mato before the night is over.

And the amazing thing is, no one was phased. Lucila's grandfather Tito kept chicken-walking around and feeding everyone whole pineapples filled with wild boat drinks, her dad and uncle kept dancing away, and the abuelas just sat there, feet from the speaker stacks, taking everything in with big smiles on their faces - all despite that heavy. fucking. grating. whacka-beat of reggaeton.

Meanwhile, in the parking lot outside, the 11-year-olds were having a field day with every imaginable exploding, launching, spark-spewing firework conceivable. In fact, they'd been doing this since long before midnight making everyone in the restaurant (which was open to the parking lot) gag on their mushroom-shrimp salad each time they set off an M-80. But really, what better way to keep the kids busy while everyone else eats dinner than to hand them a bag of fireworks and tell them to bugger off to the parking lot? More champagne, please!

So by the time the reggaeton set landed on us, everyone was well lit, and we were able to continue dancing, no matter the fact that Tego Calderon (who is actually the only reggaeton artist that kicks out a listenable song) was doing wierd things to everyone's sense of rhythm. But that's the family spirit down here - bring on the reggaeton, bring on the cumbia! Bring on the bombs, kiddos - we don't care! We're here to dance!