I was surprised when I went to H-E-B this morning.

There was a mannequin wearing a sombrero at the entrance, and Corona beer and limes were bundled together with a label saying "Fiesta Pack."

An older lady next to me was putting limes in her cart and saying, "Today is Cinco, Cinco!" Oh right, today is May 5th.

Having lived in Houston for a few years now, I see the calendar a bit differently.

For Koreans, May 5th is Children's Day, but here, there's no such thing, and instead, Cinco de Mayo takes its place.

When I first came to this neighborhood, I honestly thought, "It must be Mexico's Independence Day," but it turns out that's not the case.

Cinco de Mayo is not actually Independence Day

Mexico's Independence Day is September 16th, and Cinco de Mayo is a separate celebration.

It commemorates the miraculous victory of the Mexican army over the French army in the city of Puebla on May 5, 1862.

Yes, the French, who were the world's strongest army at the time.

The Mexican army, led by General Ignacio Zaragoza, was outnumbered and outgunned, yet they defeated the French in a true David and Goliath story.

But what's even more interesting is that Mexico itself doesn't celebrate this day as grandly.

It's similar to how we might say, "When was the Battle of Hansan?"

Strangely, in the U.S., this day has become almost a national holiday.

Almost half of Houston's population is Hispanic. So, Cinco de Mayo is essentially a neighborhood celebration.

You can go to any restaurant and find mariachi bands showing up with trumpets, margaritas still at happy hour prices even after happy hour ends, and lines at taco trucks stretching to the end of the alley.

My favorite Mexican restaurant on Washington Avenue doesn't take reservations on this day.

You just have to line up to get in. Last year, I went with a friend and waited an hour and a half, but while we were waiting, the bar next door handed us margaritas.

They said, "Enjoy while you wait." I'm not sure if this is the warmth of capitalism or if they're just trying to buy patience with alcohol, but it felt nice.

Especially in Heights or EaDo, the streets turn into a party starting from that evening.

Food trucks, live bands, suddenly appearing Polaroid photographers, white guys taking selfies in sombreros, and Mexican grandmothers out with their grandchildren.

What I've learned living in Houston is that it feels a bit lacking to only eat Tex-Mex on Cinco de Mayo.

For lunch, I have three al pastor tacos from a taqueria. If I eat something heavy for lunch, I won't make it to dinner.

For dinner, I invite friends over and order enchiladas or mole, and the margaritas must be on the rocks, with salt.

A true adult margarita is the one with that zesty lime flavor over cold ice.

If you're making guacamole at home, make sure to do it from scratch. Just mash the avocado, add lime juice, salt, chopped onion, cilantro, and a little jalapeño. That's it.

Sometimes my Korean friends ask, "What does that have to do with us?" But living in Houston, it actually has everything to do with us.

Our neighbors are Mexican, half of my coworkers are Latino, and the owner of my favorite laundromat is Mexican too.

Pretending not to know about Cinco de Mayo in a neighborhood like this feels a bit rude.

It's like when a foreign friend takes a bite of songpyeon during Chuseok in Korea; it just feels good.

This year, Cinco de Mayo falls on a Tuesday. It's a bit disappointing since it's a weekday, but in Houston, there's no such thing as a weekday celebration.

Just stopping by a local Mexican restaurant after work is enough to feel festive.

A couple of tacos and a margarita, along with the laughter of a Mexican family at the next table. That's all you need.

Anyway, ¡Feliz Cinco de Mayo! Enjoy it today with plenty of lime.