This was my entry to @mariannewest and @latino.romano’s 5 Minute Freewrite: Thursday Prompt: happy hour. You can see the details here.

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Here Comes Crazy Hour

I don’t remember one single bar, tasca, or disco here that ever offered customers a “happy hour.” Actually, even back in the pre-red revolution days, when we had credit in stores, one digit inflation, and all kinds of specials in most businesses, bars were the one single business that did not need to come up with gimmicks to lure customers.

Venezuelans have always been good drinkers. Their fidelity to alcohol has survived the red plague. Even now, when prices have been dollarized, there are people going to bars and discos. No need of a happy hour promotion.

I think happy hour was a great invention, especially for people who do care about every cent they spend. I loved promotions in the US. People could actually get free stuff there (not sure how it is now). From doughnuts to printers or cell phones, there was a special for every taste and need.

We, on the other hand, having less money to spend, always come up with whatever the opposite of specials is (rip-offs?). We find ways to make people spend more than they thought they would, without any guarantee of at least a decent service. Like this liquor store downtown that sells the good rums more expensive than any other store and, on top of that, they give you a higher bolivar-to-dollar exchange rate; something they just came up with and called dolar franquicia. So, if the official rate is 4,000,000 Bs per $, these bastards charge you 4,550,000 Bs per $.

So, forget about cheaper drinks, let alone free drinks or appetizers. I loved and miss the free peanuts in American bars.

Instead of a happy hour, we have something “better.” They called it, very fittingly, the crazy hour (la hora loca). This thing is a relatively recent invention (it did not exist here before 2000). I remember the first time I experience this thing. It was at a Quinceañera party. At some point during the party, when most elegantly (over)dressed people were drunk, someone magically placed bags under each table, the lights went out and a variety of musical genres, started to sound in a Carnival—like atmosphere. I was told I was supposed to get all we got under the table and put it on. There were carnival masks, wigs, crazy glasses, hats, whistles and all kinds of extravagant adornments.

Everybody was supposed to get up their tables, including the elders and whoever had fallen asleep, and go to the dancing floor. That was the time for those who could not dance any of the Latino genres to not feel embarrassed. It was a joyous pandemonium. Forget about expensive dresses, hairdos, shoes, or suits. La hora loca was a reminder of how absurd all the preparations and expenses for the party were and how good the party actually turns once you put aside all inhibitions, etiquettes, and pretentiousness of big social events.

However, what started as a crazy moment to help guests relax, has now become an industry that includes all kinds of entertainment and fancy expenses. One more item in the long list of absurdities for those who enjoy wasting money on social events. It should have died in a dead economy like ours, but I guess the loca part of that hour was our invention.

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