This is one of the most popular fiestas in San Miguel de Allende. And none enjoy it more than the children. Smaller ones arrived on their fathers' shoulders.

Or on their mothers' hips. This little girl appears to be receiving cellphone training.

It wasn't just kids who came for the fun.

I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but at first, I mistook this old woman for one of the costumed dancers.

The festivities started late. Of course. The children waited semi-patiently.

And waited. Note that the boys are holding backpacks. Why would they bring them to a parade?

Eventually a throbbing beat became audible, bit by bit building in intensity. A truck appeared.

The beat became unbearably loud. I felt it deep in my chest. No wonder—the trucks were carrying take-no-prisoners sound gear.

Here we see an array of monster speakers, powerful amps, a professional mixer board, a laptop loaded with MP3s—and a 3600-watt generator. No way the truck's own electrical system could power this rig.

Nobody does amplified sound like Mexicans.

There's something transcendental about immersing oneself in the music, dance, and culture of native societies.

My friend Doug, who made this video clip, was positioned about two hours downstream from me. These dancers, costumed as Looney Tunes characters, were still dancing to the same inane tune as when they had passed my station. The music when replayed on the computer utterly fails to convey the ear-splitting volume.

A few traditional bandas struggled to be heard over the din of the sound systems.

But they couldn't really compete. A shame. I like banda music, but at least as far as El Día de Los Locos, their day is gone.

The dancers followed the music; ten thousand of them, all costumed, all moving to the beat.

Some were on stilts; others wore ten-foot-high costumes. Note the window in this figure's chest.

If you expect political correctness, you're in the wrong country. We got Aunt Jemima...

... and Osama bin Laden, holding a placard depicting a plane flying into the Parroquoia!

To Osama's left, you can see candy flying through the air. The dancers throw candy to the spectators. People with parasols hold them upside-down to catch it.

Kids used backpacks or plastic bags to hold their loot.

Some gringos joined the dancing.

But to me, they seem a little off point. Dressing up in drag misses the playful innocence exhibited by everyone else. Kind of embarrassing.

Three hours later, the parade was over. The little ones were zonked out.

The crowds dispersed, except for the party animals, who would celebrate at San Antonio Plaza late into the night.

In a surprisingly adept coordination of municipal services, street sweepers, with their homemade brooms, were cleaning up litter before the spectators even had a chance to leave.

El Día de Los Locos used to annoy me. It's disruptive and noisy. This year, instead of fighting 'em, I joined 'em. I stood, jammed in the middle of a happy crowd while a six-month-old drooled on my shoulder and a five-year-old clung to my jeans pocket so as not to be swept away by the crowd. I caught candy in the air and gave it to nearby kids. I laughed with their parents.

And like Victor Hugo, the four-year-old grandchild who lives next door to me, I staggered home, exhausted, and took a nap.