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octalove · 4 years

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IV: The Dinner

(Batgirl/Red Hood)

Brief note; per demand, this little trilogy will now be an ongoing series🥺thank u all for the support! i was not expecting it at all. ur comments make my day!! i hope u enjoy this chapter bearing in mind that i wasn’t intending on a full length fic, so i hope u can put up with any missteps in the plot or writing. i’m making it up as i go. kiss kiss

Description: Reader makes an ally, and attends a tense dinner. part one, two, and three.

A mild blue dawn was just beginning to flit through the blinds, and I sighed heavily, stretching a little, and running a hand across my face. My skin was cold to the touch. Rolling over stiffly, I glanced at the clock on my nightstand.

5:26a.m.

Nineteen minutes before my alarm. I was too cold to go back to sleep, I knew, as much as Alfred had requested I try and get more of it. Pulling myself up, the sheets slipped off my bare shoulders and folded onto themselves. Once in a blue moon, I would forego making it up again, usually accompanied by an excuse. Today, I didn’t have one. I put my feet on the floor, mind buzzing.

I was done tossing and turning, and decided to get up and shower. Afterward, I threw on my uniform, and got to work on my face. A little bronzy eyeshadow, some mascara and lip balm. I could’ve turned my face into a work of art, but I was tired from my sleepless night and doing much else seemed like a strain.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in.” I was expecting Bruce or Alfred, but I caught Tim’s reflection in my vanity mirror.

“Hey.” He said.

“Good morning.” I replied tensely. He sat on my bed. Okay. Weird. Tim was a year younger than me- but always ordained himself something of an older brother. His brainpower made learned helplessness and easy state to slip into when he was around- always fixing my PS4, or recovering lost files from my laptop. When we first met, I used to use those things as a crutch to interact with him, as neither of us were particularly forthcoming. These days, we were as close as any pair of siblings.

“What’s up?” I asked, tucking away my mascara wand.

“Oh, I just thought I’d… check up on you. Before school started.”

I was the only one of the Waynes attending Gotham Academy at the moment. Damian was still at Gotham Prep, but by the time he would attend next year, I’d be graduated. I wondered if Tim ever missed it. He garnered his fair share of attention; mostly because of his attractive status and predisposition of agreeability. Before he dropped out, I used the be the subject of mediation for every eligible teenage girl that wanted to get to know my brother- no, the other one. With the soft hair. The chem tutor.

I laughed a little. “Do I seem like I need it?” Tim shrugged. I got up and plopped on the duvet beside him. My window was open a crack, filling the room with a chilly breeze and the scent of moisture and petrichor.

“Did Bruce make you get up for this?” I tried again, keeping my playful tone. He sighed and shook his head.

“Bruce isn’t the only one who’s noticed you lately.” He said, with contrasting seriousness that made my smile fall.

“What’s there to notice? Seriously.” I questioned.

He sighed again and twisted his lip. I knew what that meant. He was about to list everything different I’d been doing for the past three weeks, either alphabetically or by severity. “You look tired. You get home and go straight to your room. You keep fidgeting during briefings. You look distracted. You’re avoiding Damian- which, I get it- but like, more than usual. Dick said you haven’t texted him all week. You usually have something to say about your day at dinner, but-“

“Okay. I get it.”

A brief moment passed, where I watched him pull a looser string from the duvet.

“I know you went somewhere. On the 21st, when we were patrolling in Otisburg. You went somewhere for forty-two minutes.”

I blinked. “Oh.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything-“ He added quickly, looking at me. “Really, I have know idea why you left. I’m sure it was nothing, I just… you’ve been acting weird ever since. Where did you go?”

I swallowed, and my intestines felt like lead. Really, I was relieved. Here I was, in my room I’d decorated with Wayne money, with my brother who evidently cared enough about me to notice my typical word count at dinner, asking me what was wrong. And a lot was wrong.

So, I smoothed my plaid skirt and told him about the night of the 21st- and only that. From Red Hood, to Hoffman, to the warehouse. Every vivid detail I could remember. I decided to leave out my little truancy adventure, along with meeting him in the alley. Lifting up his mask. Having his exposed skin close enough to touch. His gunpowder smell. By the end, Tim was frowning. The following silence could’ve crushed a coke can.

“Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah.” I echoed. “Shit.”

He didn’t asked why I didn’t tell Bruce. Or Anyone. He didn’t ask why it was so important to me to do this by myself. All he did was take in the information and start putting it together.

“Jesus- you could’ve died. But all that Hoffman stuff. Why you?”

“Exactly!” I breathed.

Another knock on the door, and Alfred’s voice carried through, telling me it was time to go. I got up. Tim nodded and followed suit, no doubt carrying my every last recounting in his piggy-bank memory.

“Please don’t tell Bruce.” I said, some amount of fear slipping into my voice. “I know it was a stupid thing to do and it was stupid not to tell anyone. But he’ll never trust me again.” Tim hesitated at the door.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

I climbed into the backseat of the car, and stared at the cityscape running past the windows. The anxiety had lifted. One of my growing number of secrets revealed. In its wake, the sudden absence left a sense of clarity. I remembered why I had kept it to begin with.

Dick was gifted. The first. The talented boy who could fly. Babs and Tim were brilliant; genius far beyond the confines of academia. Damian was skilled. Trained from birth, the blood son. It nestled here him neatly, right where he belonged. What was I? I wasn’t born with athletic ability beyond my years, or genius intellect. Without that information- without my secrets- I had nothing else to give.

Thursday night was dinner. The whole family. It was Bruce’s excuse to drag Dick out of his apartment in Blüdhaven, and for Alfred to exercise a new recipe, since everyone was on a strict lean-means and superfoods regimen every other waking day. Babs attended occasionally, when work didn’t keep her busy, and Tim was only allowed to pass if he promised to rest instead.

I met his eyes as everyone was rounded into the dining room by Alfred like a herd of sheep; he gave me some imperceptible knowing look that promised to keep my secret.

We sat down and sipped water from crystal glasses as the table was set with food, muttering amongst ourselves about our days. Dick was given a coffee with the wrong name (‘Nick’), Babs met up with her friend from high school (Olivia something or other), and Damian completed a group project with some incompetent classmates (they all were- even the professors). Vigilante talk wasn’t forbidden, but generally skirted around so as to offer a small reprieve of normalcy during the week.

There was an exception to this unspoken rule when there was a particularly exciting case on the table. Unfortunately for me and my anxiety, the case of the Red Hood was a very exciting one.

“Any new breaks with Red Hood?” Dick asked through miso soup. Bruce sighed.

“He made some movements in Robbinsville. Gone before we could get there. He’s got his men on a tight leash- we couldn’t get any of them to talk.”

“Course not. There’s rumors flying all over the department. One of the Ioveanu family branches payed out a huge security detail for their private mansion.”

“He hasn’t hunted anyone in their home, has he?” I asked. I pictured him standing in front of me- maskless, in my academy uniform.

“No, it’s not his MO.” Barbara answered.

“Not yet. It’s only been six months, and he’s progressing rapidly.” Bruce diagnosed grimly.

“Are you scared he’s gonna join us for dinner?” Dick joked, throwing a wink my way.

“Haha.” I muttered. Actually, I hadn’t slept because of the very idea.

“If you’re nervous, you could always stay home next patrol.” Damian suggested pointedly. To him, existing in the realm of crimefighting was a competition, and he was always looking for others to drop out of the race. I resisted the urge to fling a pea at him.

“I’m not nervous.” I said coolly.

“You’ve been practically trembling since we fought his pathetic lackeys.”

“Damian.” Bruce warned, from the head of the table. I flipped the smallest Wayne the middle finger. He resigned, but I swore I saw amusement on his lips.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Red Hood is very skilled and very prolific. It’s a daunting case.” Bruce continued.

“Thanks, but I’m okay. Really.” I said, trying not to sound annoyed, and feeling like a spotlight was over my head, operated by the ghost of Hoffman. I almost laughed as I pictured it.

“That’s good to hear. We’ve been concerned.” Alfred added.

“Wow. I’m the star of the show around here.” I remarked dryly.

“We can’t help it, Miss Independent.” Dick said teasingly. “You’re just a good mystery.”

“Reminds me of Talia.” Tim said casually. The silverware stopped clanging.

It was a shameless subject change. Damian’s mother was an inflammatory topic for all parties. Bruce’s moral contempt didn’t reach the likes of Talia Al Ghul and Selena Kyle, immoral though they were. Beauty makes anything charming- and when paired with an impeccable taste in dress, even murder and thievery can be minimized into something of a quirk. Bruce thought so, anyway.

As for Damian, he had grappled with his dismissal from Talia’s side for what was now a majority of his life, and still possessed this deep-rooted, inextinguishable attachment to his mother. It was the hollow soreness any young boy would have in his position. Tim called him mama’s boy until he finally displayed a frightening amount of disdain for the title and actually begged him to stop. Tim agreed to, and I agreed to pretend I never heard a thing.

Dick disagreed with both of those sentiments and viewed Talia as someone who wasn’t worth the trouble. His dismissal embarrassed Bruce and offended Damian, so I knew the dinner table had been sufficiently turned into a powder keg. Tim and I shared a look as I expressed silent gratefulness, and he resigned to inspecting a dumpling, while I picked around my haka noodles.

The rest of dinner was quiet. Somehow, somewhere in the silence all had been decidedly forgiven. First by Babs who asked me to pass the pepper. Then by Dick who said the vegetables were good. Thank you, Alfred. Damian still looked pissed, and Bruce kept stealing glances at the clock.

I texted Tim under the table.

Thanks for taking one for the team.

The reply: You owe me one. I think Damian’s gonna poison my food.

We both glanced at the youngest, who was darkly mesmerized by what appeared to be Tim’s soup bowl.

He quickly added, Wait, actually tho? And we both fought laughter like two kids in the back of the class. It felt good to have an ally. Even if he still didn’t know the whole truth.

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caltropspress · 3 years

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FEEDBACK LOOP #6: Cargo Cults’ “Rammellzee”

Since these symbols and all symbols are drawn, infinity’s separation from all symbols must be shown through drawing. The only proof of such a separation of the infinity would be the understanding by the majority of the planetary peers. There is no other way.

—from IONIC TREATISE GOTHIC FUTURISM ASSASSIN KNOWLEDGES OF THE REMANIPULATED SQUARE POINT’S ONE TO 720° TO 1440° THE RAMM-ΣLL-ZΣΣ (1979, 2003)

The rabbit-hole went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Alice had not a moment to think about stopping herself before she found herself falling down a very deep well.

—from Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland

Riding among an exhausted busful of Negroes going on to graveyard shifts all over the city, she saw scratched on the back of a seat, shining for her in the brilliant smoky interior, the post horn with the legend DEATH. But unlike WASTE, somebody had troubled to write in, in pencil: DON’T EVER ANTAGONIZE THE HORN.

—from Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49

1. I walk down the street and people look at me and say, “Who the hell are you?”

Cargo Cults (Alaska and Zilla Rocca) begin their track “Rammellzee” with the voice of the some-16 billion-years-old being himself. The song is an ode, an invocation. The organ sample provides a bizarre ride: a carousel of colors. We immediately plummet—into a well, a subway tunnel, a cosmos of linguistics. Not a nonchalant That’s deep, but a depth of knowledge where “cipher” means code, means Supreme Mathematics, means gathering with your rapfolk outside the Nuyorican Poets Cafe or in Washington Square Park: a deep connection. Mimicking Rammellzee, Alaska presents the listener with “swirling pages / forming mazes of [his] formulations” and subsequently “break[s] them down into a form that’s shapeless.”

2. Hip-hop is ageist….In blues, you ain’t official until you fifty. (Ka, Red Bull Music Academy interview with Jeff Mao, 2016)

The phrase …of a certain age has, historically, been used euphemistically to describe someone (typically a woman) who has existed for a “shameful” tally of years. Society is still undoing the stigma, but rappers have made strides.

In Adult Rappers, a 2015 documentary directed by Paul Iannacchino (Hangar 18’s DJ paWL), Alaska is [accidentally?] presented twice in the closing credits—like a double, a separate persona—which calls to mind the multiple personalities of Rammellzee: Crux the Monk, Chaser the Eraser, Gash/Olear, et cetera. Age allows for maturation, for building, for bettering. In Rammellzee’s case—and I’d argue Alaska’s—it allows for complexity to emerge organically through wisdom. It allows for reinvention, for many versions of one’s self. Age and development is how an aerosol can with a fat cap can graduate to customized deodorant roll-ons and shoe polish canisters.

It begins with jerry-rigging a nozzle and ends in diagramming a “harpoonic whip launcher/pulsating extendor” to illustrate the deconstruction of letter-formations in the English alphabet. The spirit of experience pervades the Nihilist Millennial album. As anyone who has ever sat on the couch knows, communication can also improve with age.

Artists and rappers like Rammellzee and Alaska rely on wild-styles, a self-made world that warps quantum physics and disregards notions of dimensionality. It’s dream-vision. It’s liberation. It simultaneously celebrates and critiques communication: like the image of a muted horn.

“Communication is the key,” cried Nefastis. “The Demon passes his data on to the sensitive, and the sensitive must reply in kind. There are untold billions of molecules in that box. The Demon collects data on each and every one. At some deep psychic level he must get through…”

“Help,” said Oedipa, “you’re not reaching me.”

“Entropy is a figure of speech, then,” sighed Nefastis, “a metaphor. It connects the world of thermodynamics to the world of information flow. The Machine uses both. The Demon makes the metaphor not only verbally graceful, but also objectively true.”

[…]

Nefastis smiled; impenetrable, calm, a believer.

The wordplay seems just that: play—that is, until you find the thread. Alaska cobbles together words like rubbish, W.A.S.T.E. Words appear daisy-chained together—flowery, ornate, and strung together by their stems: “fatalism, Fela Kuti, razor thin” / “smash the superstitions with acid tabs and some Sufi visions” / “deep dive Sonny Liston” / “Walt Whitman.”

The track reads like a codex. Something crafted in a scriptorium. His words are warfare—double-tracked/double-barreled—and he slips into braggadocio to prove it. It’s an authoritative posture of experience. Having started atomically small—from Breaking Atoms bedroom listening, to Atoms Family—Alaska’s flow presents nuclear now: maximum damage.

There’s a refinement to what this duo is doing: “Me and Zilla well-established with a lavish vision. / Both hands crusty with Ikonklastic Panzerism.” The boasts rely on royal diction: Camelot, palace doors, Prince Paul. Each man a king, a God, and each one should teach one. Mentor texts for the masses.

Rammellzee is an equation, And simply stated it’s the way of life I’m chasing. That’s why I praise the future-Gothic future-prophet. Gotta rock it, don’t stop it, Gotta rock it, don’t stop.

You find diversions on the song, exits into familiar chambers. GZA quotations (“I was the thrilla in the Ali-Frazier Manila”) and allusions to Main Source. Large Professor rapped “Dead is my antonym,” and if that’s to be proven true, money needs to be removed from the equation. The refrain of “Gotta rock it” not only calls to mind “Beat Bop,” Herbie Hancock, and Grand Mixer DS.T (or his later incarnation, DXT), but rockets—Afrofuturist angles, future shocks (Bill Laswell [Material], friend to Rammellzee, had a hand in all this). It’s not so much a “future-prophet” as a “future profit.” “Freedom in the process” means creativity without expectation, without the constraints of market value.

Alaska gives it to us straight: “I don’t care if you don’t like it, and I don’t care if you don’t buy it / ’Cause I find freedom in the process.” Despite becoming increasingly complex in his visual approach—like a heap of garbage that loses the definition of its component parts over the ages—Rammellzee understood time equals clarity of vision. A wasted world becomes a meaningful one. Of course, we got to pay rent, so money connects, but ownership of one’s art is about empowerment. “Selling out” is the opposite—an evisceration of one’s self and spirit. “We lost control from the second we sold the art,” Alaska raps. “We sold our future….We should be seeking enlightenment.”

The moment arrives, epiphanically: “I find freedom in the process so I’m grateful, / And that’s my main source: it’s my friendly game of baseball.” For Alaska and Zilla Rocca, it’s not a job—it’s a passion, a pastime.

5. Nascent imagination deep inside a battle station.

Post-9/11 meant luxury apartments displaced Rammellzee’s Battle Station loft, his living museum. But the art has been excavated and exists posthumously. His Gothic Futurism and Ikonoklast Panzerism seem at home archived on the internet—a network that appears more like a chaos cloud. Rammellzee deconstructed and transcended language—junk monk scripts and calligraphic cut-ups of consumerism. His art is the empowerment a recycling arrow-triangle could only hope to be. Recycle is also rebirth. Rammellzee’s career path is circuitous, deep-tunneled (subway-esque), eternal.

Similarly, Alaska’s multisyllabic patterns are an endless barrage, like weaponized letters tilted sideways, like bottle rockets angled into a bottle’s neck: “Armament / Now my names are built like a BattleBot / Locked inside an ad hoc Camelot, I rather not / Tangle with a rabid lot, hop inside a rabbit hole.”

Alice was beginning to get very tired of sitting by her sister on the bank, and of having nothing to do: once or twice she had peeped into the book her sister was reading, but it had no pictures or conversations in it, “and what is the use of a book,” thought Alice “without pictures or conversations?”

Boredom can make trouble, but boredom can also breed creativity. Alaska rather not spar with trolls under ISP bridges—though he’s equipped to. Instead, he channels his energies into material.

6. Our culture is done. We lived it.

Near the end, Alaska paraphrases Rammellzee: “I’m not the first or the last to don the mask. / I see it as a title, I’m monastic with these raps.”

Living a life of art—making it regardless of accolade or monetary payment—is the highest form of creativity. Live the art and die by it, like Stan Brakhage, poisoning himself at a slow pace as he applied toxic dyes to celluloid film. Like Rammellzee executing graffiti pieces maskless, huffing the carcinogenic fumes.

MF DOOM (née Zev Love X)—a Rammellzee descendant—taught us how to revel in anonymity, the importance of not spotlighting yourself, but instead seeking out the shade, secret passageways, and the trapdoor in the stage floor. Not all of us heed the advice, but some do, and they feel the throb of real success, not the sort that shows up in bank statements and 401(k) plans.

Images:

“Beat Bop” test pressing, Rammellzee and K-Rob, art by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1983 (detail) | Rammellzee black-and-white portrait photograph (unknown) | Ikonoklast Panzerism diagram from IONIC TREATISE GOTHIC FUTURISM ASSASSIN KNOWLEDGES OF THE REMANIPULATED SQUARE POINT’S ONE TO 720° TO 1440° THE RAMM-ΣLL-ZΣΣ (1979, 2003) | Page 34 (muted post horn) in Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, Bantam Books edition (1966) | “A scribe at work,” from an illuminated manuscript from the Estoire del Saint Graal, France (Royal MS 14 E III c. 1315-1325 AD) | Herbie Hancock, Future Shock cassette cover (1983) | Grand Mixer D.ST comic book image (unknown) | Stan Brahage at chalkboard (unknown) | Stan Brakhage, Mothlight celluloid (1963) | “Beat Bop” test pressing, Rammellzee and K-Rob, art by Jean-Michel Basquiat, 1983 (detail)

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thessalian · 3 years

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Thess vs ‘Normalcy’

So here’s the UK. Monday, stuff starts opening again - non-essential shops, anyplace that can serve food and drinks outdoors, and stuff like hairdressers. “A slow return to a semblance of normal” says the Prime Minister.

And I’m having panic attacks. I’ve been having panic attacks about that for awhile now. Thing is, I’m not really afraid of COVID at this point. Yes, there are still people being total dipshits about it (two days in a row I’ve ended up with a maskless jackass not observing social distancing and sitting directly next to me on the Tube - different maskless asshole each time, mind). A little worried about the vaccination programme slow-down and the jackasses who refuse to get vaccinated because Freedom or whatever, but not panic-attack levels.

No, I’m panicking over a return to ‘some semblance of normal’. Because honestly, this whole pandemic mess has shone a massive spotlight on how awful, inbalanced and ugly ‘normal’ has become. And I think the Prime Minister and his cronies in Cabinet know it, because while they’re not rushing (they remember what happened last time), they are reeeeeeeeally pushing the “You want everything to get back to normal, right? Your freedom to go down the pub and visit your family and go shopping!”

We’re focusing on that instead of focusing on the horrors that were dug up from under various metaphorical rocks during the pandemic. Massive underfunding of the NHS. The devastating effect of ten years of austerity on families and communities. Pay disparities and the struggle to earn enough to put food on the table by the people this ‘normal’ actually relies on most but treats the worst. The woeful inadequacies of our social safety nets.

Basically, that version of ‘normal’ is going to kill us sure as any pandemic. Or, frankly, worse. Yeah, death’s the ultimate end of all possibility, all potential for things to get better ... but honestly, so is this. There’s no opportunity for things to get better for people because our government has literally strangled them all. Small businesses got shafted in terms of government support, while all the bailout money went to businesses whose owners were already swimming in money and didn’t need any more. The ‘retraining scheme’ the Tories set up was not up to par, partly because it didn’t support the people retraining well enough, partly because the qualifications covered under the retraining scheme weren’t fit for purpose, but mostly because the eligibility requirements meant that a lot of people who really needed it couldn’t get it. The Universal Credit means of providing benefits is still proving to be a horror show, and the best anyone could do for those who’d lost their jobs to COVID business closures was an extra £20 per week. And all that grand talk about increasing the minimum wage was delayed and then dropped like a lead balloon when everyone was distracted by the Brexit / COVID double-whammy.

Basically, government’s really hoping we focus on the joys of being able to go to the pub again. (It’s always the fucking pub. I don’t know why it’s always the fucking pub, but it’s always the fucking pub. Honestly, I just want to make sure that a couple of my favourite comic and gaming shops didn’t permanently close. I’m not worried about the Warhammer flagship store because they probably had a lot of online business, but places like Orc’s Nest, Gosh and Orbital, and this little plave whose name I can never remember off Camden Market ... I has a concern.) They talk about how our mental health is suffering and we must be allowed out to resume some semblance of a normal life ... and y’know what? It’s returning to a ‘normal life’ that’s giving me the mental health problems. If we get through this and nothing’s done about the glaring issues in our society, that’ll just entrench how ‘normal’ that state of affairs is, and the harder it will be to shake loose from the status quo as established by a bunch of cronyistic plutocrats. And again, that’ll either kill us or drive us into despair just as much as COVID has. It’ll just take longer and come with a side of gaslighting as we’re told we should actually like being overworked and underpaid by people who are only in the position of power that they’re in because they rigged the system that way long ago. I’m trying to be sympathetic to those who want their pub outings back, particularly since I know I’m not inclined to sympathy for the position because I don’t drink much, finding anything I can eat in a pub or restaurant is nearly impossible, I don’t like crowds and I’m actually relieved to be required by law to avoid my family. But I don’t like how something as relatively useless as pubs being open seems to be all it takes to distract people from their own disenfranchisement.

This is not to say that I will completely ignore the silver lining here. I am still very grateful that I can go and get my hair cut and give my hairdresser some business. It’s funny, now I think on it: I was in having my hair cut the day they announced the new ‘lockdown’, back in December. Which means I was one of the last people in there before lockdown began. Now I’ll be back the first day they open once the lockdown ends. I like my hairdresser. She knows how I like my hair. That’s a rare thing. And seriously, the back’s all shaggy and aggravating and ‘lopsided Briard’ is not a good look for me.

#Thess on COVID

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instantdeerlover · 4 years

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What ‘Reopened’ Restaurants Look Like in 17 Cities Worldwide added to Google Docs

What ‘Reopened’ Restaurants Look Like in 17 Cities Worldwide

If there’s one thing that the coronavirus pandemic has made crystal clear these last few months, it’s how thoroughly interconnected life on Earth has become.

We are now, without a doubt, a global civilization, and as many brands have so graciously reminded us lately, “We’re all in this together.” But the spread of COVID-19 has also had a profound way of spotlighting the differences: the ways in which each of our societies responds to crisis, the things we value, and how our governments support our vulnerable communities — or don’t.

The first days of June were an anxious time for much of the world. Just as protesters took to the streets across the U.S. to condemn racial violence and the Minneapolis police killing of George Floyd, cities across the globe were grasping for the first signs of life after months of COVID-19-related lockdown and quarantine, thanks to the easing of restrictions on bars and restaurants.

Virtually every major metropolis on earth spent the bulk of spring in some state of shutdown; our responses since have been less synchronous. On June 1 and 2, Paris and Melbourne began to allow dine-in seating, and Berlin reopened bars — prost! Elsewhere, life remained at a near standstill. Bogotá only began allowing carryout from restaurants on June 1, and taking so much as a walk in Moscow — let alone a bite — continues to require scheduling. Meanwhile, Ho Chi Minh City and Tokyo welcomed this June like every other before it, with little fanfare beyond the usual blooms and ripening market fruit; for them, the spread of COVID-19 is all but a terrifying memory.

The point is, despite the near-universal tragedy caused by the novel coronavirus, the look and feel of our experiences today is anything but uniform, and depends greatly on the place we call home. Last week, Eater asked an international team of photographers and writers to document daily life where it intersects with food and drink in 17 cities around the world on the very same day. What follows is something like a diary of eating on planet Earth on Tuesday, June 2, 2020. The resulting snapshots show our disparate realities as we edge ever closer to once again sharing a great meal, a stiff drink, and everyday life, together. — Lesley Suter, travel editor

➾ For 10 weeks, Mexico City has been locked down, with restaurants taking a hard hit: According to the restaurateur chamber, more than 6,000 establishments have closed for good. The survivors are now preparing for the next phase: Starting June 15, restaurants will implement tougher sanitary measures at 30 percent capacity. Today, June 2, people are out and about in spite of the two-week quarantine extension. Downtown, Alberto Sarabia, the lead taquero of famed Los Cocuyos, smiles under his face mask while passing out tacos to customers for the first time after a six-week closure. In San Juan market, Oaxaca products vendor Ricardo Castañeda reports 70 to 80 percent in lost sales. He hopes for renewed tourism and the return of his regulars. “We never closed,” Castañeda says. “We need to eat.” He’s not alone in working through the pandemic; 31.5 million Mexicans depend on the informal economy of street vending and other non-taxed work and haven’t been able to stay home. Across the city’s restaurant and food sector, anxiety is palpable. The light at the end of the tunnel is supposed to arrive on June 15, but nobody knows how the “new normal” will pan out. How can they? This is uncharted territory. — Natalia de la Rosa, Mexico City | Photographs by Juan de Dios Garza

➾ Street food carts are busy at lunchtime. Brick-and-mortar restaurants have no obligation to space out tables. Diners do not wear masks. It’s business as some sort of usual on June 2 here in Ho Chi Minh City. Restaurants and street food carts have been open since late April, when the country’s social-distancing campaign ended. No community transmission has been detected in nearly 50 days, and those businesses that survived the economic shock of the pandemic’s peak can operate normally. But the restaurant industry hasn’t completely recovered. A street food stall owner in the central business district, who introduces herself as Ms. Tu while serving her lunch customers, says that she’s happy to be open again after closing for two months earlier in the year; though she does note that business has only returned to 50 percent of its pre-pandemic level. And with borders still closed to international visitors, restaurants that rely on foreign tourists have been hit hard. A downtown location of the popular Japanese-Italian chain Pizza 4P’s is oddly quiet tonight. But the very fact that these places are open, with maskless customers sitting right next to each other, is evidence of Vietnam’s astonishing success in combating the coronavirus. — Michael Tatarski, Ho Chi Minh City | Photographs by Alberto Prieto

➾ Cibi is buzzing with customers exchanging smiles and knowing glances. June 2 is only the second day in months they’ve been allowed to sit down for a meal at the Melbourne cafe. It almost feels like things are back to “normal,” though hand-sanitizing stations and social-distancing tape on the floor remind everyone the staff is working hard to serve safely. Australia has fared better than most during the COVID-19 pandemic, and as of June 1 restaurants can reopen under strict rules: 20 patrons maximum, social distancing, extra sanitation, and contact details collected from customers. Many are only offering set menus and requesting payment in advance, but that hasn’t slowed the reservations. “These first couple of nights, we’ve seen a lot of regulars who supported us before, and through COVID-19 with takeaway,” says Michael Bascetta, co-owner of Bar Liberty and Capitano. “It’s great to know we have that community here to help us.” Some are continuing initiatives started during the pandemic. Anchovy is selling khao jee pate from a to-go window, Ima Project Cafe is still packaging its popular nori paste and kimchi for home kitchens, and several restaurants are cooking free meals for people in need. “Our community is much stronger together than ever before,” says Ima Project Cafe’s Asako Miura. “But it’s a long journey for sure.” — Audrey Bourget, Melbourne | Photo by Michael Woods

➾ Bars reopened in Berlin on June 2, 18 days after restaurants were permitted to reopen under similar social-distancing restrictions. With each new set of Lockerungen (relaxation of the rules), Berliners have been eager to reclaim a piece of whatever the new normal is, and lately, that means pouring into dining rooms and filling up barstools. What’s absent in public on June 2 is the general anxiety that’s precipitated conversations among friends and colleagues since the lockdown began in March. Eating out in Berlin seems the same as before, with the exception of servers wearing masks. You might notice the social-distancing rules that some establishments have taken it upon themselves to post, but rarely do you see restaurants following the government recommendation to have guests write down their information for contact tracing. Most skip the formality and get straight to the drinks. And diners, too, seem largely unphased by it all: I turned down an indoor seat while dining out on June 2, but people behind us in line happily took the spot. That said, 350 cops in riot gear chased down activists protesting an eviction during my dinner elsewhere (outdoor tables, socially distanced) and hardly anyone batted an eye. Berliners don’t easily flinch. — Joe Baur, Berlin | Photographs by Joe Baur

➾ “Please! Try keeping the distance, and stay at least one meter apart,” reads the sign near the entrance of Le Violon Dingue. It’s held by a mannequin, a caricature of a voluminous French chef, and following his request isn’t easy on June 2 inside the tiny bakery in downtown Stockholm. In normal times the bakery mostly delivers lunches to large offices, so minimal indoor space usually isn’t a problem. “I’ll never forget the 16th of March. We lost 70 percent of our business immediately,” says co-owner Helena Bergqvist. Although Swedish authorities never entirely closed down the restaurant scene, as other European governments did, many people heeded public health recommendations to socially distance. When Sweden reported its first death related to COVID-19 on March 11, the number of people going out to eat dramatically dropped, as did the Swedish stock market and hospitality revenue in general — by some estimates between 40 and 90 percent. Authorities even forced a few restaurants to close temporarily after they let too many people in at one time. Over the last couple of weeks, though, the mood has begun to change, and hope can be found today in the slowly increasing number of group orders at Le Violon Dingue. When requests for 10 to 15 sandwiches come in at a time, you know people are getting back to work. — Per Styregård, Stockholm | Photographs by Petter Bäcklund

➾ Life in Taiwan is back to business, but the new normal for many eateries means temperature checks, hand sanitizers strewn throughout, environmentally nonfriendly single-use utensils, masked servers and cooks, and plastic dividers that separate patrons at crowded tables. — Leslie Nguyen-Okwu, Taiwan | Photo by Sean Marc Lee

➾ On June 2, the grand dome enclosing the White Rabbit isn’t populated by the usual diners gazing out of the 16th-floor windows over Moscow. Instead, it’s full of meticulously packed white paper bags stuffed with food — some containing fine dining setups for customers who will pick them up later, others holding free lunches for the city’s scores of medical workers. Moscow’s Delicatessen restaurant and bar also provides meals to doctors, and today’s menu includes tomato soup and okonomiyaki. In the main dining room, where the large communal dining table once stood, there sits a ping-pong table for staffers. Points are tallied in chalk on the wall; next to them are ticks marking each passing day of quarantine. Restaurants in Moscow have been closed since March due to COVID-19, but rather than declare a state of emergency, President Vladimir Putin called for a period of “nonworking days.” The linguistic nuance is important, as the current setup means landlords can continue to demand rent in full, even as restaurants bring in a fraction of their previous revenue with takeout and delivery. “If something doesn’t change soon, a failure will occur,” says Delicatessen’s bar manager, Ivan Semchenko. “Our government doesn’t support us; we’re counting only on ourselves right now.” — Polina Chernyshova, Moscow | Photographs by Pasha Gulian

➾ Boxes of beer, wine, and gin spill onto the sidewalk outside Dry Dock, a boutique liquor store on Parkhurst Street in Johannesburg, where gourmet restaurants stand side by side with sports pubs, bars, art galleries, and boutiques. Owner Martin Pienaar and his staff are filling 600 online orders for drive-thru, pickup, and courier delivery. South Africa eased its 10-week alcohol ban on June 1 when it entered level three of its COVID-19 response, but it might still be a while before South Africans can indulge in a meal and a bottle of pinotage at a restaurant. The country is emerging from one of the world’s strictest lockdowns, which began March 27 and required restaurants to close completely. In early May, restaurants began reopening for delivery between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. Food delivery services reached capacity and were unable to fill many orders, while smaller restaurants faced with delivery fees of up to 40 percent struggled to make a profit. And although restaurants are allowed to offer pickup now, many have remained closed as they consider it financially ruinous in an already fragile economic environment. The restaurant industry has pleaded with the government to allow sit-in dining at 70 percent capacity to prevent further industry job losses. And as the minister of tourism drafts a proposal to submit to the National Coronavirus Command Council, patrons and restaurateurs hope the verdict will come sooner rather than later, so as to salvage the $4.21 billion industry. — Iga Motylska, Johannesburg | Photographs by Iga Motylska

➾ Walking around eastern Paris on June 2 — the official launch of “phase 2” of the city’s post-confinement rebirth — is not unlike the experience I distinctly remember from the week following 2015’s November 13 attacks, when locals flocked to their favorite bars and restaurants in solidarity. From the early risers gleefully settling onto café terraces for their first morning espressos to friends gathering for extended apéritifs, intrepid Parisians are determined to reclaim control over a way of life that had been unceremoniously disrupted, both then and now. Until June 22, restaurants, bars, and cafés are only permitted to open outdoor seating areas. So, until 10 p.m. small groups (less than 10, the state-mandated limit) gather around bistro tables and hightops, arranged one meter apart, spilling onto sidewalks, parking spaces, and even some streets. They sip cocktails, order cheese and charcuterie plates from masked severs, and, generally, behave as if their world hadn’t just been rocked by a global health crisis. With minimal social distancing and very few masks, it is as if they are simply catching up after a long summer holiday. — Lindsey Tramuta, Paris | Photo by Joann Pai

➾ If you could get in to Hong Kong today, you could go to dinner here. But you probably can’t. On June 2, all restaurants are open (they were never mandated closed). Bars are open. Markets are open. Pretty much everything is open except the city itself. Nonresidents coming from anywhere other than mainland China, Macao, and Taiwan are not allowed entry, and everyone else is tested on arrival and either sent straight to the hospital or made to quarantine for a minimum of two weeks. For those already here, there are only minor inconveniences to going out — temperature checks, contact-tracing forms, masks, a maximum group size of eight — but at this point, guests lean foreheads in for digital thermometers as if they’d never not bowed on their way in the door. The virus is not the main thing on Hong Kongers’ minds anyway. This morning, hoping to get a better sense of the mood around recent power grabs by Beijing, I passed a Lennon wall of Post-It notes at a pro-protest “yellow” cha chaan teng in Tsim Sha Tsui, and met a young protester who had been on the frontlines of Hong Kong’s anti-government demonstrations off and on since last summer. To my order of a scrambled egg sandwich, porridge, and milk tea, she added only an unsweetened iced coffee. “I’m fasting,” she told me. “All this stress, all these issues made me binge-eat for a long time. Now I fast 20 hours a day.” — Andrew Genung, Hong Kong | Photographs by Andrew Genung

➾ Thirty minutes before curfew, an eerie silence engulfs Yaba’s Industrial Avenue in Lagos — home to a slew of open-air bars and nightclubs. This street, especially on weekends, doesn’t normally go quiet until dawn. But now, it’s without the interminable flash of brightly colored LED lighting, the characteristic backlit signage and DJ booths blaring music, and the usual din of beer-drinking revelers. The streetside sellers of spicy meat skewers, grilled chicken, turkey, and fish have all but disappeared. The city’s initial restrictions, imposed on March 26, shuttered bars and nightclubs; restaurants, classified as essential service, were limited to takeout. On June 2, Nigeria entered the second stage of reopening, but the ban on bars, the heartbeat of Lagos’s nightlife scene, persists. Nationwide curfew now runs from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. Without the nightlife, Yaba has lost its flavor and mélange, its vigor and ambience. And no one knows when it — and life — will return to normal. — Linus Unah, Lagos | Photographs by Adetona Omokanye

➾ Slowly, cautiously, Tokyo is emerging from its COVID-19 shutdown. Nearly everyone is wearing masks. Commuter trains are filling up, although rush hour is much quieter than before. And people are tentatively returning to their favorite restaurants. As soon as the state of emergency was lifted on May 25, most chefs activated plans to reopen. Some opened immediately, others a few days later, and most of the rest by the first weekend of June. Even so, on June 2, traditional nightlife areas are a pale shadow of their usual selves. In Shinbashi, the mood is somber. “It’s still less than 20 percent of normal,” says one bored restaurant worker standing outside his kushiyaki grill. “But at least that’s better than last month.” Chef Shin Harakawa, co-owner of the Blind Donkey in Kanda, reopened May 26. Tonight, he says he’s tired but optimistic — and, more than anything, grateful that customers are returning. However, just as the metropolis shuts down for the night, the government announces that infection rates are rising again. The fiery red lighting of the Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo Bay is a warning from the city that we’re not out of the woods yet. — Robbie Swinnerton, Tokyo | Photographs by Anna Bedynska

➾ Even with what looks like a third of its bars and eateries still shuttered, Carrer Parlament in Barcelona’s popular San Antoni neighborhood is busy for a Tuesday evening. Gaggles of two and four, with the occasional group nearing the city’s 10-person limit, chatter around carefully spaced outdoor tables crowded with tiny quinto bottles of beer and glasses of vermouth over ice. Some patrons have completely unmasked for drinks, while others opt to keep their masks handy, snugly tucked under their chins. The lockdown that began March 14 has lifted, and after months in which locals were confined to their homes for everything but essential activities, it’s a relief and a pleasure to see families and friends laughing and breaking bread together, unworried about their personal safety in the public space. One day earlier, about 200 people gathered outside the U.S. consulate to protest the murder of George Floyd, with the mossos de esquadra, Barcelona’s militarized police force, in attendance to protect the consulate. Protesters carried signs and wore masks that said “I can’t breathe” in English, Spanish, and Catalan, and chanted, “No justice, no peace” to show their city, and the rest of the world, that black lives matter, here and everywhere. — Chris Ciolli, Barcelona | Photo by Gerard Moral

➾ The Carmel Market is Tel Aviv’s center of food culture. It reopened after a two-month closure in May, but on June 2 the enforced lack of crowding still feels foreign. And yet, there are the bright red heaps of cherries that mark the season, fresh-from-the-oven pitas baked with za’atar, and mountains of olives piled alongside recycled Coca-Cola bottles filled with olive oil. Aging locals sit on overturned jugs, sipping espresso with an air of gratitude — content to be back in their element after a grim few months, where everything more than 100 meters from home was off limits. Elsewhere, it’s only been six days, but cafes, bars, and restaurants are back. New regulations mean masks, temperature checks, disposable menus, and more space between tables. The city closed busy streets to cars and painted parking spots purple to serve as additional outdoor dining areas. In the Jaffa neighborhood, mismatched chairs and Turkish carpets are sprawled outside Mansheya, a modern Arab restaurant and culture hub – the first business of its kind to open since the pandemic began. The novel coronavirus has seemed to fade into the distance in the eyes of locals, who thrive on a beehive activity and are now working hard to maintain Tel Aviv joie de vivre — at least until the second wave hits. — Corinna Kern, Tel Aviv | Photographs by Corinna Kern

➾ Colombia remains under one of the longest and strictest lockdowns in the world, a fact that has earned President Iván Duque Márquez praise from the World Health Organization, but has triggered anxiety among the people. In Bogotá, mandatory confinement started March 24, and the latest extension runs until June 30, though exceptions allow some businesses to reopen. Until June 1, however, even takeaway was off limits; restaurants were limited to delivery only. But now, if they pass a strict inspection, businesses can allow diners to pick up food to go. On June 2, all sorts of physical barriers block off access to counters, and makeshift serving tables hold signs instructing diners about social distancing. Sanitizer, alcohol spray, masks, and cleaning tools are among the decor. There is no set date for reopening, nor a defined protocol for when that happens, so most restaurant owners are waiting, devising strategies to survive, and trying to prepare for whatever the future may hold. How restaurants fill takeout boxes depends on their creativity and resources, but the stress and commitment to the cause are universal. Farmers, cooks, restaurateurs, entrepreneurs, food suppliers, delivery personnel, guards, and even customers are united in the fight against infection. Though Colombians have suffered isolation and uncertainty, they are also resilient and — beautifully — active. — Juliana Duque, Bogotá | Photographs by Alessandro Osses

➾ It’s a drizzly winter night in Auckland and six guests stand outside Pasture restaurant. A couple dressed to the nines wonders about a dish of chlorophyll-green abalone they saw on Instagram, while two regulars pine for the chef’s three-month-aged wagyu. At 5:45, chef Ed Verner welcomes each guest into the restaurant with a drink and leads them to their seat at the six-person chef’s counter facing the hearth — the fire that brings the 21-course menu to life. Just three weeks after restaurants were allowed to reopen, it’s essentially business as usual at the city’s premiere fine dining destination. In fact, it’s booked solid every weekend into August. Today, as with each day before it, the city seems to lighten from the weight of weeks in isolation, when every meal was made (or microwaved) from what could be scavenged from bare grocery store shelves and even the simplest forms of physical human contact — a hug, a handshake — was an illicit fantasy. It’s hard to remember those times when the only remnants are a paper sign-in sheet at the front of the restaurant and a meter between tables. Tonight, New Zealand feels even more like a tiny island nation alone in the Pacific Ocean than it normally does, especially by the glow of a restaurant’s wood-burning fire. — Hillary Eaton, Auckland | Photo by Hillary Eaton

➾ June 2 is Republic Day in Italy, and any other year, Milan would have been a ghost town. Locals would have fled for long weekend getaways and hundreds of restaurants would have shuttered for the holiday. But in 2020, Republic Day falls 24 hours before the lifting of Italy’s inter-region and foreign travel bans, so the Milanesi are, by default, confined to a staycation. Restaurants have been awaking from their slumber since early May, operating at 50 percent capacity and offering takeout and delivery. The diners at the alfresco establishments dotting the usually lively Arco della Pace quarter reflect the shifting mores: a solo diner takes care to avoid any unnecessary human encounter; a party of six clinks spritzes, masks dangling from their ears; a trio greets each other with shoulder pats instead of the customary double-cheek kiss. At Piazza del Duomo, tensions simmer during a right-wing political protest calling for the resignation of the current prime minister over his handling of COVID-19 and his legalization of 600,000 migrant workers during the pandemic. Whether at tables or at protest, the city feels alive and impatient on the eve of the next phase of reopening. — Jaclyn DeGiorgio, Milan | Photographs by Laura La Monaca

➾ The streets of New Delhi are unrecognizable when there aren’t hundreds of people swarming at corners – talking over a cup of chai, fighting over the last mutton kebab. The slow crawl that has replaced the otherwise rapid pace of the Indian capital is a sign that times are indeed bad. Since the lockdown following India’s COVID-19 outbreak in March, restaurants, markets, and butchers, where life converges in the city, remain looming and empty. “People don’t want to eat meat; they believe the virus comes through it,” says Afzal, a butcher in INA, Delhi’s wholesale market. Nearby, a vegetable seller laments his surplus of spinach. Plump mangos sit in carts symbolizing the coming of summer; ice cream sellers bring packages to children waiting eagerly in balconies. There are signs of solace, but they are few. Pushcarts that served chholay (spiced chickpeas) sit abandoned in the corner, and tin vans that usually feed students “Masala Chinese” food have been broken down by the police enforcing the new regulations. “I miss everybody,” says Vishwa Kumar, a local chai shop owner in Chitranjan Park, New Delhi’s Bengali neighborhood, where men would come to read the paper and drink tea for hours. “Don’t ask me about the virus. Talk about something else.” — Sharanya Deepak, New Delhi | Photographs by Seonath Wakrambam

via Eater - All https://www.eater.com/21274841/june-restaurants-reopening-global-coronavirus-photos

Created June 9, 2020 at 11:26PM /huong sen View Google Doc Nhà hàng Hương Sen chuyên buffet hải sản cao cấp✅ Tổ chức tiệc cưới✅ Hội nghị, hội thảo✅ Tiệc lưu động✅ Sự kiện mang tầm cỡ quốc gia 52 Phố Miếu Đầm, Mễ Trì, Nam Từ Liêm, Hà Nội http://huongsen.vn/ 0904988999 http://huongsen.vn/to-chuc-tiec-hoi-nghi/ https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1xa6sRugRZk4MDSyctcqusGYBv1lXYkrF

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lostinyourears · 5 years

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Super Friday ‘Best of 2018′ Report! 01/04/2019

Stuka Jr., Guerrero Maya Jr. & Rey Cometa vs. Gran Guerrero, Templario & Ephesto

Who’s who?

Stuka masked in blue/black, Cometa maskless in blue/black and Maya in white.

Gran/Templario both in green black with templario having a cross on his mask while Ephesto is in blue/black.

How’s the match?

Very good, this is much better than you’d expect from a CMLL opener. Not to throw shade on their opening matches, but they are normally filled with guys who CMLL isn’t going to be doing much with. Not 2 champions and some of the best midcard talent in the company. Rey Cometa hit a wild armdrag dive in this match that is worth the price of admission. This match is probably the least eventful on the card, but still a fun match worth checking out.

Triton vs. Titan lightning match

Who’s who?

Triton in white and Titan in dark blue.

How’s the match?

Great, I love these two talents and it was great to see them butt heads. It feels a little strange since they are in a stable together, but I like that CMLL will do things like that, while other companies will shy away from putting two faces vs. each other, let alone two faces in the same stable. Titan has a reputation of always a bridesmaid, never a bride. Hopefully 2019 can change that fortune for him, with a title around his waist seeming like it would be completely natural. He’d also be a great choice to win any of the annual tournaments. Meanwhile Triton does have a belt in the Coliseo Tag Titles, even if those might be considered the least prestigious titles in the company(that are actually seen on TV). I hope we get a TV title defense from Triton/Esfinge in 2019 and more specifically in the next few months. Though what team would challenge is a hard question, perhaps Rojo/Polvora? Great match from these two and a heated match, more heated than one would thing from two allies.

Ultimo Guerrero, Euforia & Mephisto vs. Volador Jr., Valiente & Caristico

Who’s who?

Ultimo maskless, Euforia masked, both in green/black & Mephisto in black.

Volador Jr. maskless, Caristico masked both in white and Valiente in metallic blue also masked.

How’s the match?

Good, the tecnicos here have some impressive moments, but the match is shorter than it needed to be and thus feels like the worst match of the night. Still in a night as stuffed to the gills as this one was, it’s not too bad to be the least exciting. This match ended with a DQ when Euforia fouled and then unmasked Valiente. So we’ll likely get a singles match from those two during the FantasticaMania dry period. That should be fun and Euforia/Caristico from this time last year was great, so I have high hopes this will deliver as well.

Atlantis, Kraneo & Volcano vs. Los ingobernables(Rush, Terrible & Bestia del Ring)

Who’s who?

Atlantis in white mask, Kraneo in blue/black and Volcano in all red.

Ingobernables dressed alike, Rush/Bestia in western boots and Terrible has the most facial hair of the trio.

How’s the match?

Very good, I’m in the minority as far as I can tell, of people who really enjoy Kraneo/Volcano as Gorillas del Ring. I think it’s nice to have another tecnico factions when CMLL seems to favor making rudo teams. Kraneo turning tecnico earlier this year was spurred by Rush and ingobernables feuding with him. So this is one of the most true to the ‘Best of 2018′ moniker they gave this show. Of course La Park is the Rush feud that was most talked about in 2018 and it would have been nice to see him included here, but I think this match was plenty of fun. Ingobernables steamrolled through this challenge. Fun match and worth checking out for sure.

Barbaro Cavernario vs. Dragon Lee

Who’s who?

Barbaro in animal print/body paint and Dragon Lee in white.

How’s the match?

Perfect. I loved this match. I don’t think I even want to go too deep in what happened or how it went down. This is one to just check out, don’t get spoiled or worry about what I think. Just go watch it, one of the best matches I’ve ever seen. I thought it was brilliant from bell to bell. My one complaint, would be that this isn’t really ‘Best of 2018′ as Dragon Lee wasn’t around half of 2018. These guys have great chemistry and are both going to FantasticaMania where perhaps they’ll meet again.

NGD(Sanson, Cuatrero & Forastero) (c) vs. Soberano Jr., Angel de Oro & Niebla Roja for the Mexican National Trios Championships

Who’s who?

Sanson/Cuatrero both in white with Cuatrero having horseshoes on his gear while their cousin Forastero is in all gold.

Oro in gold, Roja in red and Soberano in white.

How’s the match?

Great, this match lived up to it’s place in the main event(though the Lee/Barbaro match was best match of the night). I’m a big fan of NGD and seeing them as a full unit at FantasticaMania should be a treat, last year it was just Sanson/Cuatrero. I love to see a title match get a big spotlight like this and the Mexican National Trios Titles are perhaps one of the most deserving belts. Being as the trios boom of the 1980′s which started with this belt really helped shape what modern CMLL is... mostly trios. You also couldn’t find a better group of 6 men to rock this main event. It had a little bit of a slow start and took a while to get the audience back, as they had to be exhausted after Dragon Lee/Barbaro Cavernario burned the house to the ground. Still, I think the 3rd fall here really got the crowd back and finished this show off with style

This 1st Super Friday will be the benchmark for all the rest to come in 2019. The Measuring stick has been made, now let’s see if CMLL and the roster can surpass it. Spoilers : It won’t for the next 2 weeks while like 20 of the best talents in CMLL travel to Japan for FantasticaMania.

Highlights :

Super Friday 'Best of 2018' Highlights 01/04/2018

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easyfoodnetwork · 4 years

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On June 2, 2020, as Parisians sat down at cafes for the first time in months, people in Moscow still couldn’t leave their homes between curfews. Here, the divergent views of 17 cities around the world on the same day If there’s one thing that the coronavirus pandemic has made crystal clear these last few months, it’s how thoroughly interconnected life on Earth has become. We are now, without a doubt, a global civilization, and as many brands have so graciously reminded us lately, “We’re all in this together.” But the spread of COVID-19 has also had a profound way of spotlighting the differences: the ways in which each of our societies responds to crisis, the things we value, and how our governments support our vulnerable communities — or don’t. The first days of June were an anxious time for much of the world. Just as protesters took to the streets across the U.S. to condemn racial violence and the Minneapolis police killing of George Floyd, cities across the globe were grasping for the first signs of life after months of COVID-19-related lockdown and quarantine, thanks to the easing of restrictions on bars and restaurants. Virtually every major metropolis on earth spent the bulk of spring in some state of shutdown; our responses since have been less synchronous. On June 1 and 2, Paris and Melbourne began to allow dine-in seating, and Berlin reopened bars — prost! Elsewhere, life remained at a near standstill. Bogotá only began allowing carryout from restaurants on June 1, and taking so much as a walk in Moscow — let alone a bite — continues to require scheduling. Meanwhile, Ho Chi Minh City and Tokyo welcomed this June like every other before it, with little fanfare beyond the usual blooms and ripening market fruit; for them, the spread of COVID-19 is all but a terrifying memory. The point is, despite the near-universal tragedy caused by the novel coronavirus, the look and feel of our experiences today is anything but uniform, and depends greatly on the place we call home. Last week, Eater asked an international team of photographers and writers to document daily life where it intersects with food and drink in 17 cities around the world on the very same day. What follows is something like a diary of eating on planet Earth on Tuesday, June 2, 2020. The resulting snapshots show our disparate realities as we edge ever closer to once again sharing a great meal, a stiff drink, and everyday life, together. — Lesley Suter, travel editor ➾ For 10 weeks, Mexico City has been locked down, with restaurants taking a hard hit: According to the restaurateur chamber, more than 6,000 establishments have closed for good. The survivors are now preparing for the next phase: Starting June 15, restaurants will implement tougher sanitary measures at 30 percent capacity. Today, June 2, people are out and about in spite of the two-week quarantine extension. Downtown, Alberto Sarabia, the lead taquero of famed Los Cocuyos, smiles under his face mask while passing out tacos to customers for the first time after a six-week closure. In San Juan market, Oaxaca products vendor Ricardo Castañeda reports 70 to 80 percent in lost sales. He hopes for renewed tourism and the return of his regulars. “We never closed,” Castañeda says. “We need to eat.” He’s not alone in working through the pandemic; 31.5 million Mexicans depend on the informal economy of street vending and other non-taxed work and haven’t been able to stay home. Across the city’s restaurant and food sector, anxiety is palpable. The light at the end of the tunnel is supposed to arrive on June 15, but nobody knows how the “new normal” will pan out. How can they? This is uncharted territory. — Natalia de la Rosa, Mexico City | Photographs by Juan de Dios Garza ➾ Street food carts are busy at lunchtime. Brick-and-mortar restaurants have no obligation to space out tables. Diners do not wear masks. It’s business as some sort of usual on June 2 here in Ho Chi Minh City. Restaurants and street food carts have been open since late April, when the country’s social-distancing campaign ended. No community transmission has been detected in nearly 50 days, and those businesses that survived the economic shock of the pandemic’s peak can operate normally. But the restaurant industry hasn’t completely recovered. A street food stall owner in the central business district, who introduces herself as Ms. Tu while serving her lunch customers, says that she’s happy to be open again after closing for two months earlier in the year; though she does note that business has only returned to 50 percent of its pre-pandemic level. And with borders still closed to international visitors, restaurants that rely on foreign tourists have been hit hard. A downtown location of the popular Japanese-Italian chain Pizza 4P’s is oddly quiet tonight. But the very fact that these places are open, with maskless customers sitting right next to each other, is evidence of Vietnam’s astonishing success in combating the coronavirus. — Michael Tatarski, Ho Chi Minh City | Photographs by Alberto Prieto ➾ Cibi is buzzing with customers exchanging smiles and knowing glances. June 2 is only the second day in months they’ve been allowed to sit down for a meal at the Melbourne cafe. It almost feels like things are back to “normal,” though hand-sanitizing stations and social-distancing tape on the floor remind everyone the staff is working hard to serve safely. Australia has fared better than most during the COVID-19 pandemic, and as of June 1 restaurants can reopen under strict rules: 20 patrons maximum, social distancing, extra sanitation, and contact details collected from customers. Many are only offering set menus and requesting payment in advance, but that hasn’t slowed the reservations. “These first couple of nights, we’ve seen a lot of regulars who supported us before, and through COVID-19 with takeaway,” says Michael Bascetta, co-owner of Bar Liberty and Capitano. “It’s great to know we have that community here to help us.” Some are continuing initiatives started during the pandemic. Anchovy is selling khao jee pate from a to-go window, Ima Project Cafe is still packaging its popular nori paste and kimchi for home kitchens, and several restaurants are cooking free meals for people in need. “Our community is much stronger together than ever before,” says Ima Project Cafe’s Asako Miura. “But it’s a long journey for sure.” — Audrey Bourget, Melbourne | Photo by Michael Woods ➾ Bars reopened in Berlin on June 2, 18 days after restaurants were permitted to reopen under similar social-distancing restrictions. With each new set of Lockerungen (relaxation of the rules), Berliners have been eager to reclaim a piece of whatever the new normal is, and lately, that means pouring into dining rooms and filling up barstools. What’s absent in public on June 2 is the general anxiety that’s precipitated conversations among friends and colleagues since the lockdown began in March. Eating out in Berlin seems the same as before, with the exception of servers wearing masks. You might notice the social-distancing rules that some establishments have taken it upon themselves to post, but rarely do you see restaurants following the government recommendation to have guests write down their information for contact tracing. Most skip the formality and get straight to the drinks. And diners, too, seem largely unphased by it all: I turned down an indoor seat while dining out on June 2, but people behind us in line happily took the spot. That said, 350 cops in riot gear chased down activists protesting an eviction during my dinner elsewhere (outdoor tables, socially distanced) and hardly anyone batted an eye. Berliners don’t easily flinch. — Joe Baur, Berlin | Photographs by Joe Baur ➾ “Please! Try keeping the distance, and stay at least one meter apart,” reads the sign near the entrance of Le Violon Dingue. It’s held by a mannequin, a caricature of a voluminous French chef, and following his request isn’t easy on June 2 inside the tiny bakery in downtown Stockholm. In normal times the bakery mostly delivers lunches to large offices, so minimal indoor space usually isn’t a problem. “I’ll never forget the 16th of March. We lost 70 percent of our business immediately,” says co-owner Helena Bergqvist. Although Swedish authorities never entirely closed down the restaurant scene, as other European governments did, many people heeded public health recommendations to socially distance. When Sweden reported its first death related to COVID-19 on March 11, the number of people going out to eat dramatically dropped, as did the Swedish stock market and hospitality revenue in general — by some estimates between 40 and 90 percent. Authorities even forced a few restaurants to close temporarily after they let too many people in at one time. Over the last couple of weeks, though, the mood has begun to change, and hope can be found today in the slowly increasing number of group orders at Le Violon Dingue. When requests for 10 to 15 sandwiches come in at a time, you know people are getting back to work. — Per Styregård, Stockholm | Photographs by Petter Bäcklund ➾ Life in Taiwan is back to business, but the new normal for many eateries means temperature checks, hand sanitizers strewn throughout, environmentally nonfriendly single-use utensils, masked servers and cooks, and plastic dividers that separate patrons at crowded tables. — Leslie Nguyen-Okwu, Taiwan | Photo by Sean Marc Lee ➾ On June 2, the grand dome enclosing the White Rabbit isn’t populated by the usual diners gazing out of the 16th-floor windows over Moscow. Instead, it’s full of meticulously packed white paper bags stuffed with food — some containing fine dining setups for customers who will pick them up later, others holding free lunches for the city’s scores of medical workers. Moscow’s Delicatessen restaurant and bar also provides meals to doctors, and today’s menu includes tomato soup and okonomiyaki. In the main dining room, where the large communal dining table once stood, there sits a ping-pong table for staffers. Points are tallied in chalk on the wall; next to them are ticks marking each passing day of quarantine. Restaurants in Moscow have been closed since March due to COVID-19, but rather than declare a state of emergency, President Vladimir Putin called for a period of “nonworking days.” The linguistic nuance is important, as the current setup means landlords can continue to demand rent in full, even as restaurants bring in a fraction of their previous revenue with takeout and delivery. “If something doesn’t change soon, a failure will occur,” says Delicatessen’s bar manager, Ivan Semchenko. “Our government doesn’t support us; we’re counting only on ourselves right now.” — Polina Chernyshova, Moscow | Photographs by Pasha Gulian ➾ Boxes of beer, wine, and gin spill onto the sidewalk outside Dry Dock, a boutique liquor store on Parkhurst Street in Johannesburg, where gourmet restaurants stand side by side with sports pubs, bars, art galleries, and boutiques. Owner Martin Pienaar and his staff are filling 600 online orders for drive-thru, pickup, and courier delivery. South Africa eased its 10-week alcohol ban on June 1 when it entered level three of its COVID-19 response, but it might still be a while before South Africans can indulge in a meal and a bottle of pinotage at a restaurant. The country is emerging from one of the world’s strictest lockdowns, which began March 27 and required restaurants to close completely. In early May, restaurants began reopening for delivery between 9 a.m. and 7 p.m. Food delivery services reached capacity and were unable to fill many orders, while smaller restaurants faced with delivery fees of up to 40 percent struggled to make a profit. And although restaurants are allowed to offer pickup now, many have remained closed as they consider it financially ruinous in an already fragile economic environment. The restaurant industry has pleaded with the government to allow sit-in dining at 70 percent capacity to prevent further industry job losses. And as the minister of tourism drafts a proposal to submit to the National Coronavirus Command Council, patrons and restaurateurs hope the verdict will come sooner rather than later, so as to salvage the $4.21 billion industry. — Iga Motylska, Johannesburg | Photographs by Iga Motylska ➾ Walking around eastern Paris on June 2 — the official launch of “phase 2” of the city’s post-confinement rebirth — is not unlike the experience I distinctly remember from the week following 2015’s November 13 attacks, when locals flocked to their favorite bars and restaurants in solidarity. From the early risers gleefully settling onto café terraces for their first morning espressos to friends gathering for extended apéritifs, intrepid Parisians are determined to reclaim control over a way of life that had been unceremoniously disrupted, both then and now. Until June 22, restaurants, bars, and cafés are only permitted to open outdoor seating areas. So, until 10 p.m. small groups (less than 10, the state-mandated limit) gather around bistro tables and hightops, arranged one meter apart, spilling onto sidewalks, parking spaces, and even some streets. They sip cocktails, order cheese and charcuterie plates from masked severs, and, generally, behave as if their world hadn’t just been rocked by a global health crisis. With minimal social distancing and very few masks, it is as if they are simply catching up after a long summer holiday. — Lindsey Tramuta, Paris | Photo by Joann Pai ➾ If you could get in to Hong Kong today, you could go to dinner here. But you probably can’t. On June 2, all restaurants are open (they were never mandated closed). Bars are open. Markets are open. Pretty much everything is open except the city itself. Nonresidents coming from anywhere other than mainland China, Macao, and Taiwan are not allowed entry, and everyone else is tested on arrival and either sent straight to the hospital or made to quarantine for a minimum of two weeks. For those already here, there are only minor inconveniences to going out — temperature checks, contact-tracing forms, masks, a maximum group size of eight — but at this point, guests lean foreheads in for digital thermometers as if they’d never not bowed on their way in the door. The virus is not the main thing on Hong Kongers’ minds anyway. This morning, hoping to get a better sense of the mood around recent power grabs by Beijing, I passed a Lennon wall of Post-It notes at a pro-protest “yellow” cha chaan teng in Tsim Sha Tsui, and met a young protester who had been on the frontlines of Hong Kong’s anti-government demonstrations off and on since last summer. To my order of a scrambled egg sandwich, porridge, and milk tea, she added only an unsweetened iced coffee. “I’m fasting,” she told me. “All this stress, all these issues made me binge-eat for a long time. Now I fast 20 hours a day.” — Andrew Genung, Hong Kong | Photographs by Andrew Genung ➾ Thirty minutes before curfew, an eerie silence engulfs Yaba’s Industrial Avenue in Lagos — home to a slew of open-air bars and nightclubs. This street, especially on weekends, doesn’t normally go quiet until dawn. But now, it’s without the interminable flash of brightly colored LED lighting, the characteristic backlit signage and DJ booths blaring music, and the usual din of beer-drinking revelers. The streetside sellers of spicy meat skewers, grilled chicken, turkey, and fish have all but disappeared. The city’s initial restrictions, imposed on March 26, shuttered bars and nightclubs; restaurants, classified as essential service, were limited to takeout. On June 2, Nigeria entered the second stage of reopening, but the ban on bars, the heartbeat of Lagos’s nightlife scene, persists. Nationwide curfew now runs from 10 p.m. to 4 a.m. Without the nightlife, Yaba has lost its flavor and mélange, its vigor and ambience. And no one knows when it — and life — will return to normal. — Linus Unah, Lagos | Photographs by Adetona Omokanye ➾ Slowly, cautiously, Tokyo is emerging from its COVID-19 shutdown. Nearly everyone is wearing masks. Commuter trains are filling up, although rush hour is much quieter than before. And people are tentatively returning to their favorite restaurants. As soon as the state of emergency was lifted on May 25, most chefs activated plans to reopen. Some opened immediately, others a few days later, and most of the rest by the first weekend of June. Even so, on June 2, traditional nightlife areas are a pale shadow of their usual selves. In Shinbashi, the mood is somber. “It’s still less than 20 percent of normal,” says one bored restaurant worker standing outside his kushiyaki grill. “But at least that’s better than last month.” Chef Shin Harakawa, co-owner of the Blind Donkey in Kanda, reopened May 26. Tonight, he says he’s tired but optimistic — and, more than anything, grateful that customers are returning. However, just as the metropolis shuts down for the night, the government announces that infection rates are rising again. The fiery red lighting of the Rainbow Bridge in Tokyo Bay is a warning from the city that we’re not out of the woods yet. — Robbie Swinnerton, Tokyo | Photographs by Anna Bedynska ➾ Even with what looks like a third of its bars and eateries still shuttered, Carrer Parlament in Barcelona’s popular San Antoni neighborhood is busy for a Tuesday evening. Gaggles of two and four, with the occasional group nearing the city’s 10-person limit, chatter around carefully spaced outdoor tables crowded with tiny quinto bottles of beer and glasses of vermouth over ice. Some patrons have completely unmasked for drinks, while others opt to keep their masks handy, snugly tucked under their chins. The lockdown that began March 14 has lifted, and after months in which locals were confined to their homes for everything but essential activities, it’s a relief and a pleasure to see families and friends laughing and breaking bread together, unworried about their personal safety in the public space. One day earlier, about 200 people gathered outside the U.S. consulate to protest the murder of George Floyd, with the mossos de esquadra, Barcelona’s militarized police force, in attendance to protect the consulate. Protesters carried signs and wore masks that said “I can’t breathe” in English, Spanish, and Catalan, and chanted, “No justice, no peace” to show their city, and the rest of the world, that black lives matter, here and everywhere. — Chris Ciolli, Barcelona | Photo by Gerard Moral ➾ The Carmel Market is Tel Aviv’s center of food culture. It reopened after a two-month closure in May, but on June 2 the enforced lack of crowding still feels foreign. And yet, there are the bright red heaps of cherries that mark the season, fresh-from-the-oven pitas baked with za’atar, and mountains of olives piled alongside recycled Coca-Cola bottles filled with olive oil. Aging locals sit on overturned jugs, sipping espresso with an air of gratitude — content to be back in their element after a grim few months, where everything more than 100 meters from home was off limits. Elsewhere, it’s only been six days, but cafes, bars, and restaurants are back. New regulations mean masks, temperature checks, disposable menus, and more space between tables. The city closed busy streets to cars and painted parking spots purple to serve as additional outdoor dining areas. In the Jaffa neighborhood, mismatched chairs and Turkish carpets are sprawled outside Mansheya, a modern Arab restaurant and culture hub – the first business of its kind to open since the pandemic began. The novel coronavirus has seemed to fade into the distance in the eyes of locals, who thrive on a beehive activity and are now working hard to maintain Tel Aviv joie de vivre — at least until the second wave hits. — Corinna Kern, Tel Aviv | Photographs by Corinna Kern ➾ Colombia remains under one of the longest and strictest lockdowns in the world, a fact that has earned President Iván Duque Márquez praise from the World Health Organization, but has triggered anxiety among the people. In Bogotá, mandatory confinement started March 24, and the latest extension runs until June 30, though exceptions allow some businesses to reopen. Until June 1, however, even takeaway was off limits; restaurants were limited to delivery only. But now, if they pass a strict inspection, businesses can allow diners to pick up food to go. On June 2, all sorts of physical barriers block off access to counters, and makeshift serving tables hold signs instructing diners about social distancing. Sanitizer, alcohol spray, masks, and cleaning tools are among the decor. There is no set date for reopening, nor a defined protocol for when that happens, so most restaurant owners are waiting, devising strategies to survive, and trying to prepare for whatever the future may hold. How restaurants fill takeout boxes depends on their creativity and resources, but the stress and commitment to the cause are universal. Farmers, cooks, restaurateurs, entrepreneurs, food suppliers, delivery personnel, guards, and even customers are united in the fight against infection. Though Colombians have suffered isolation and uncertainty, they are also resilient and — beautifully — active. — Juliana Duque, Bogotá | Photographs by Alessandro Osses ➾ It’s a drizzly winter night in Auckland and six guests stand outside Pasture restaurant. A couple dressed to the nines wonders about a dish of chlorophyll-green abalone they saw on Instagram, while two regulars pine for the chef’s three-month-aged wagyu. At 5:45, chef Ed Verner welcomes each guest into the restaurant with a drink and leads them to their seat at the six-person chef’s counter facing the hearth — the fire that brings the 21-course menu to life. Just three weeks after restaurants were allowed to reopen, it’s essentially business as usual at the city’s premiere fine dining destination. In fact, it’s booked solid every weekend into August. Today, as with each day before it, the city seems to lighten from the weight of weeks in isolation, when every meal was made (or microwaved) from what could be scavenged from bare grocery store shelves and even the simplest forms of physical human contact — a hug, a handshake — was an illicit fantasy. It’s hard to remember those times when the only remnants are a paper sign-in sheet at the front of the restaurant and a meter between tables. Tonight, New Zealand feels even more like a tiny island nation alone in the Pacific Ocean than it normally does, especially by the glow of a restaurant’s wood-burning fire. — Hillary Eaton, Auckland | Photo by Hillary Eaton ➾ June 2 is Republic Day in Italy, and any other year, Milan would have been a ghost town. Locals would have fled for long weekend getaways and hundreds of restaurants would have shuttered for the holiday. But in 2020, Republic Day falls 24 hours before the lifting of Italy’s inter-region and foreign travel bans, so the Milanesi are, by default, confined to a staycation. Restaurants have been awaking from their slumber since early May, operating at 50 percent capacity and offering takeout and delivery. The diners at the alfresco establishments dotting the usually lively Arco della Pace quarter reflect the shifting mores: a solo diner takes care to avoid any unnecessary human encounter; a party of six clinks spritzes, masks dangling from their ears; a trio greets each other with shoulder pats instead of the customary double-cheek kiss. At Piazza del Duomo, tensions simmer during a right-wing political protest calling for the resignation of the current prime minister over his handling of COVID-19 and his legalization of 600,000 migrant workers during the pandemic. Whether at tables or at protest, the city feels alive and impatient on the eve of the next phase of reopening. — Jaclyn DeGiorgio, Milan | Photographs by Laura La Monaca ➾ The streets of New Delhi are unrecognizable when there aren’t hundreds of people swarming at corners – talking over a cup of chai, fighting over the last mutton kebab. The slow crawl that has replaced the otherwise rapid pace of the Indian capital is a sign that times are indeed bad. Since the lockdown following India’s COVID-19 outbreak in March, restaurants, markets, and butchers, where life converges in the city, remain looming and empty. “People don’t want to eat meat; they believe the virus comes through it,” says Afzal, a butcher in INA, Delhi’s wholesale market. Nearby, a vegetable seller laments his surplus of spinach. Plump mangos sit in carts symbolizing the coming of summer; ice cream sellers bring packages to children waiting eagerly in balconies. There are signs of solace, but they are few. Pushcarts that served chholay (spiced chickpeas) sit abandoned in the corner, and tin vans that usually feed students “Masala Chinese” food have been broken down by the police enforcing the new regulations. “I miss everybody,” says Vishwa Kumar, a local chai shop owner in Chitranjan Park, New Delhi’s Bengali neighborhood, where men would come to read the paper and drink tea for hours. “Don’t ask me about the virus. Talk about something else.” — Sharanya Deepak, New Delhi | Photographs by Seonath Wakrambam from Eater - All https://ift.tt/37qLw4N

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lostinyourears · 6 years

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Arena Mexico Super Friday Report! 08/03/2018

Templario & Virus vs. Audaz & Fuego

Who’s who?

Templario masked in silver, Virus maskless.

Audaz in gold and Fuego in orange/yellow.

How’s the match?

Good, Audaz and Templario facing off was fun. I think Templario using that kick to the barricade is a cool spot. It’s just less shocking here when he also did it last week higher on the card on Blue Panther Jr. Seeing a spot a second time will always pale in comparison to the first time it’s whipped out.

This is much better than most openers, even the ones we get on Friday Nights. This review is going up a bit late, but in the next show CMLL uploaded to Youtube we saw Super Astro Jr. and Templario in a Puebla match vs one another. So I wouldn’t be surprised to see him in this opening spot vs Templario in the following weeks which is a reason to get excited.

Niebla Roja, Angel de Oro & Blue Panther Jr. vs. Mephisto, Luciferno & Ephesto

Who’s who?

Roja in red, Oro in gold and Blue Panther in blue. Pretty color coated team.

Mephisto in yellow mask with white threads hanging off the back, Luciferno in red pants/mask with his name on his shirt and Ephesto having his face on his shirt in a red mask too.

How’s the match?

Good, I think the demons can have a great match and also enjoy the duo of Roja/Oro. If I’m being honest though this isn’t as exciting as the Panthers/Templario match from last Friday. This felt by the numbers, but by design. Obviously this match is a card filler and in the middle of the card because they had more hyped contests later in the card to have the big spots to make the crowd and viewer pop. A forgettable match, but not technically bad in any sense, just not much on the line and nothing coming out of it. Might have made more sense to have Audaz squeezed in this match... with hindsight since the following Tuesday he had a lighting match with Luciferno.

El Hijo de La Park, Mistico & Caristico vs. NGD(Sanson, Cuatrero & Forastero)

Who’s who?

Hijo de Park looks like a skinny La Park in his skeleton suit, Mistico is the smaller white masked men and has just gold trim as opposed to Caristico’s red accents along with the white/gold.

NGD are all in black/white.

Forastero has gold trim and bandolier on his tights, Cuatrero has horseshoes and Sanson has a lion on his forehead.

How’s the match?

Great, this is the best Hijo de La Park has looked since coming to CMLL. I’m not sure what clicked here or if he was just given more of a spotlight. Since some of his matches have included his father and Rush. Which tends to overshadow anyone else who is included in those matches, since all those matches have been so centered on those two feuding. I was surprised there wasn’t much friction here between Mistico/Caristico. I suppose not every match with those two needs to lean on that. NGD are as always fun and this match in particular might have stolen the show that was in honor of Negro Casas and have very hyped/anticipated semi-main and main event.

Negro Casas, Atlantis & Blue Panther vs. Solar, Fuerza Guerrera & Octagon

Who’s who?

Negro Casas in silver briefs, Atlantis in his iconic white mask and Blue Panther maskless in blue/white.

Solar in red/gold, Fuerza in red/blue and Octagon in like... a red sweater with black pants.

How’s the match?

Very good, these matches are always more about being a feel good moment than a workrate classic and this doesn’t divert from that expectation. I think for a career celebration match like this, it’s above the norm by a fair margin. Negro Casas is grinning ear from ear every second he was the legal man in that match. Many people don’t have 20 year careers and he knows that doubling that is even less likely. He wins with La Casita and celebrates post match in a style very akin to him and his faction La Peste Negra.

Matt Taven (c) vs. Volador Jr. for the NWA World Historic Welterweight Title

Who’s who?

Matt Taven in black, Volador Jr. in white.

How’s the match?

Very good, but this match felt pretty similar to their title match a few months ago when Taven took the belt off Volador Jr. I don’t have too much to say about this, It’s well worth a watch. I just find the booking to be pretty boring and it make Taven’s reign feel superfluous. For instance... at the end of this match Rush attacks Volador Jr, for seemingly no reason. Had Rush tried to take the belt from Taven and failed, his post match attack on Volador Jr. would have felt more earned. All and all this is a great match. It didn’t have the shocking dethroning of a long reigning champion like the last match had, so it isn’t as exciting or unexpected. It felt very safe and makes Taven taking the belt seem like a way to extend Volador Jr.’s time with the title by starting a new reign at square/day one.

Rush, Mark & Jay Briscoe vs. La Park, Fenix & Pentagon

Who’s who?

Rush has long black hair in white briefs and the Briscoes... I can’t really tell apart to be honest.

La Park in gold/black, Fenix in gold, Pentagon in red/black.

How’s the match?

Very good, I don’t think this reaches the heights of Park/Rush’s first match. I do think it’s the best Pentagon has looked since coming to CMLL. It helps that he is working side by side with his brother who he has good chemistry with. I know the Briscoes can have had great matches in the past, but they didn’t shine as much here as you’d hope upon their debut. I don’t think this was the best way to introduce them, but I have no doubts they will shine in other matches down the line. They did a good job working off Pentagon/Fenix, but the lucha bros were the stars in those exchanges.

Highlights :

Arena Mexico Super Friday Highlights 08/03/2018

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