Fourth of July in Mexico? My ass!

The American in Mexico...on the Fourth of July. We decided, at the last minute, to take a Carnival Cruise down the Mexican Riviera. Yesterday, the Fourth of July, we happened to make a port call in Ensenada, a city less than two hours south of San Diego and a favorite day-trip or weekend retreat for Americans who find Mexico fascinating, romantic, colorful...or just plan inexpensive.

Did I see a single American flag, even a paper version, hanging outside any of the Ensenada watering holes, restaurants, or tourist traps?

Not one.

But walk through downtown Santa Barbara, California on Saturday, May 5th and you would have sworn you were in Mexico. Mexican flags and shameless promotion of Cinco de Mayo. The most absurd pandering establishment was a bar themed as an English pub. I poked my nose in, contemplating indulging in one of my worthwhile pursuits (drinking my way through the single malt alphabet--let's leave that for a different post) when I saw the ceiling festooned with Cinco de Mayo promotional material.

OK, we're the paragons of capitalism, and I was in Santa Barbara where it's a party every weekend (as if the Barbarians need an excuse to party!) so I can temper any perceived cynicism by pleading that it is just us doing what we do we do best...make a buck.

Yet somewhere in all of this there might be a lesson. Why no flags in Ensenada? Why not indulge the Americano tourista? After all, a peso's a peso.

Or can we chalk this up to being proud of your own country. Mexicans tear their hair out when we beat them in soccer, causing a national examination of spirit. Mexicans in the United States (whether here legally or not) drape themselves in the flag of their country.

Meanwhile, our national angst seems bent on apologizing for our country. Apologizing for what? For remaining the beacon of the world? For being the land of opportunity? We seem to walking around too worried that we are going to offend someone.

Before I go all James Brown and Living in America on you, I'll sign off.

But not before saying that for the first time in my life I'll admit that I missed the fireworks and The 1812 Overture.