It was a late night...one that brought out the beautiful, the bad, and the ugly. Last night I had the privilege of attending the Miss Universe 2007 pageant here in Mexico City, thanks to Javier Amaya, a friend and assistant choreographer for the show. The event took place just a few blocks away from my apartment.
I went with my buddy Jason and remember telling him outside the theater how nice it would be to go to a "cultural" event where people aren't screaming all the time. I prepared myself to experience a nice laid-back evening. Reality fell a little short of my expectations the first half of the night.
We had outstanding seats about fifty rows from the front of the stage, dead center. My seat put me right beside Miss Iberoamérica. The night was set!
Well, things took a turn south as soon as Miss USA hit the stage. I had done a little homework on Rachel Smith to find out who I could root for. She seemed like a rock-solid representative for the US, graduating Magna Cum Laude from Belmont University where she also served as editor of the newspaper, and professing a faith in Christ (although not real outspoke about that). Yet all of the accolades didn't seem to matter when the Mexican crowd decided to make a political statement by booing Rachel whenever possible.
As the field narrowed, the crowd divided its time between booing Rachel and chanting "Mé-xi-co" whenever Miss Mexico was anywhere in sight. As my blood pressure began to rise, I looked around to see who all the naysayers were. I didn't have to look far. Several people in their forties directly behind me, whom in other circumstances I might have mistakenly identified as dignified people, joined in the foolishness.
At one point, Mario Lopez seemed to motion to the crowd to tell them to stop chanting after returning from a commercial break. During another break, an announcer asked the crowd to refrain from booing. Their response...they booed.
Now many of you know how much I love Mexico City...the culture, the people, the events. But after sitting through over an hour of the torture (where my tie felt like a branding iron around my neck), I poised myself to take a few of the scalawags out behind the woodshed as soon as they let us out. I thought better of it, and figured I'd practice loving by faith instead. But the temptation was a strong one.
After the show, I spoke with Christy, an American whose daughter helped with the pageant. She shared my sentiments when she said, "I don't care if a girl was from freakin' Natzi Germany, I still wouldn't boo her."
Thankfully, Miss USA showed her solid character by keeping her poise through the barrage of boos and recovering beautifully after taking a spill during the evening gown section of the night. And Jason and I left the scene without incident to enjoy a fantastic evening/early morning with several of the Miss Universe contestants. We figured we probably wouldn't have an opportunity to hob nob with some of the most beautiful women in the world again anytime soon, so we schmoozed well into the wees hours of the morning.
The night was full of surprises, including my encounter with Nick Lachey, who is dating Vanessa Minnillo, the pageant's co-host.








