In 1992, Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart” took the world by storm. Just two years later, in 1994, Mexican band Caballo Dorado released a Spanish cover, “No Rompas Mi Corazón”, which exploded in popularity across Mexico. Similar to how the electric slide became associated with “Achy Breaky Heart” in the US, a line dance emerged for “No Rompas Mi Corazón” in Mexico. Unlike in the US where the trend faded, this dance remained incredibly popular in Mexico. When Caballo Dorado launched their next high-energy hit, “Payaso de Rodeo” (Rodeo Clown), the electric slide-style dance simply transitioned to this faster-paced track.
Today in Mexico, dancing to “No Rompas Mi Corazón” and especially “Payaso de Rodeo” is a cultural cornerstone at celebrations. You’ll see it at weddings, quinceañeras, and nightclubs. The infectious energy of the “Payaso de Rodeo” dance even transcended borders when Mexicans at this year’s World Cup taught the moves to a group of Saudi Arabian fans, showcasing its universal appeal.
During my month-long stay in Monterrey, Mexico, it became clear that the Caballo Dorado Dances are deeply embedded in the local culture. Not a single night out passed without hearing “No Rompas Mi Corazón” or “Payaso de Rodeo” blasting from the speakers. This article, the third in my Monterrey series, dives into my personal experiences navigating the Monterrey nightlife and my often clumsy attempts to master the “Payaso de Rodeo” dance.
My First Encounter: The Human Tornado
My initiation into the world of “Payaso de Rodeo” happened during Halloween weekend. In Monterrey, I was staying in a lively six-bed dorm in a hostel. During my second week, the dorm dynamic shifted with the arrival of a group of Colombian college students attending a conference. Suddenly, the six beds were occupied by myself, four Colombian students, and their professor – a cozy and international mix.
The Colombian students, eager to experience Monterrey’s nightlife, invited me to join their evening plans. We linked up with Armando, the hostel manager, and his local friends, heading to Art Studios, a nightclub that quickly became a regular haunt during my time in Monterrey.
Art Studios is a sprawling multi-story club. The first three floors pulsed with Reggaeton music, while the top floor offered karaoke. It was always a vibrant and fun atmosphere. Humorously, the only English song I consistently heard them play, and quite frequently at that, was “Crank That” by Soulja Boy. The Colombian students were enthusiastic for me to demonstrate the “Crank That” dance, a skill I definitely did not possess, but I appreciated their faith in my nonexistent abilities.
The Colombians were incredibly energetic dancers, particularly when it came to twerking. I had never witnessed such enthusiastic and persistent twerking. One of the girls, in particular, seemed determined to twerk on me, not with a casual brush, but with full commitment. I spent a significant portion of the night questioning whether I was simply out of sync with the dance floor culture or if her approach was unusually intense – ultimately concluding it was likely a blend of both. They also repeatedly offered to “show me how to dance,” subtly implying my current moves were lacking a certain… something. Despite any perceived shortcomings in my style, I was giving it my best effort.
As the night progressed and the dance floor vibrated, around 1:30 AM, the moment arrived. “No Rompas Mi Corazón” began to play.
Up until that point, I had never heard the song before. However, it was immediately clear that something was about to happen. Everyone on the dance floor started to organize themselves into lines, preparing for a group dance. This was clearly a deeply ingrained Mexican tradition, as the Colombian students were just as clueless as I was.
The dance started, and it seemed straightforward enough. I jumped in, attempting to follow along. To give you an idea of my initial experience, imagine a group of people attempting the “Achy Breaky Heart” dance – somewhat coordinated, mostly enthusiastic, and a little bit chaotic.
The steps were simple enough to mimic. If you had a basic sense of rhythm and two functioning legs, participation seemed achievable.
So, I danced to “No Rompas Mi Corazón,” feeling a sense of accomplishment at keeping up.
But, as I soon learned, there’s a two-part experience. There’s the initial, slower “No Rompas Mi Corazón,” and then, without warning, the club would transition into the turbo-charged “Payaso de Rodeo.” You get comfortable with the Billy Ray Cyrus-esque rhythm, and then suddenly, you’re thrown into a whirlwind of fast-paced steps.
This is what “Payaso de Rodeo” looks like when performed by people who know what they are doing.
Now, picture that same dance, but inside a crowded nightclub, packed with people moving shoulder to shoulder. It was utter chaos. As I frantically tried to keep pace, a guy next to me, with perfect English clarity, yelled “MOVE!” I readily complied, stepping back to the sidelines. Watching from the edge of the dance floor with my Colombian friends, I could only describe the scene as a swirling tornado of people.
Despite my slightly humiliating inability to keep up with the “Payaso de Rodeo” frenzy, one thing was undeniable: it looked incredibly fun. Right then and there, I made it my mission to conquer the “Payaso de Rodeo” dance.
Second Attempt: Baseball and a Dance Floor Strikeout
The following weekend, the pursuit of mastering “Payaso de Rodeo” took a backseat to baseball. Squeezed into the back of Armando’s friend’s car, four of us made our way to the local baseball stadium, home of the Monterrey Sultanes. Laura, the other hostel manager, had secured us free tickets through her brother, who worked in the Sultanes marketing department.
It turns out, a Mexican baseball game shares many similarities with an American one, except, thankfully, the beer is cheaper. Upon entering the stadium, we were greeted by a helpful diagram explaining the rules of baseball, presumably for any confused international attendees.
Understanding baseball: A helpful diagram explaining the rules for fans at the Monterrey Sultanes stadium.
Inside the stadium: Fans enjoying a baseball game at the Monterrey Sultanes stadium in Mexico.
One surprising element of the Monterrey Sultanes experience was their primary sponsor: Tim Hortons. Tim Hortons, the Canadian coffee and donut chain, holds a peculiar place in the hearts of Monterrey residents. They have a genuine affection for Tim Hortons, and Monterrey boasts a significant number of Tim Hortons franchises.
Tim Hortons sponsorship: A banner showing Tim Hortons as a sponsor for the Monterrey Sultanes baseball team, with the hashtag #WeAreAllSultanes.
As we settled into our seats, watching the Sultanes compete against the Mazatlán Venados, my attention was caught by a girl a few rows ahead sipping a vibrant neon pink drink. Intrigued, I knew I had to try it. A brief investigation at the bar led me to discover this giant tequila concoction called a “Vampiro,” available for a reasonable $7.
El Vampiro drink: A large, neon pink “Vampiro” tequila cocktail purchased at a Monterrey Sultanes baseball game.
So, we enjoyed the game, participated in the wave, and enthusiastically yelled “ponche,” the Mexican equivalent of “strike.”
After the game, as the crowds streamed out of the stadium, we were directed towards a stage where a live band was playing traditional Norteño (northern Mexican) music. Apparently, post-Sultanes games often turned into impromptu dance parties!
Post-game dance party: A live band playing Norteño music on a stage outside the Monterrey baseball stadium after a Sultanes game.
We danced to the Norteño music for a while at the stadium, but eventually, the pull of Reggaeton became too strong. We headed back towards the hostel area and found a bar down the street.
We stayed until closing time, and as we walked home in the early hours, we stumbled upon a scene unfolding from a car trunk. A guy had set up a sound system in his trunk and was blasting music. A small group had already gathered, dancing in the street. Not ready for the night to end, we joined the impromptu street party.
The crowd grew larger, and after overcoming a few sound system glitches, we had a full-fledged street party underway.
Then, someone put on Caballo Dorado.
Once again, I was lured into a false sense of confidence by the familiar rhythm of “No Rompas Mi Corazón.” And, once again, the sudden shift to the high-speed “Payaso de Rodeo” left me struggling. I was forced to retreat to the edge of the crowd, becoming a spectator once more, my “Payaso de Rodeo” ambitions temporarily thwarted.
Third Time’s the Charm: Practice Makes Passable
After two unsuccessful attempts to just wing the “Payaso de Rodeo,” it became clear that raw enthusiasm wasn’t enough. I needed actual practice to master this dance. As the saying goes, “We don’t rise to the occasion, we fall to the level of our training,” and my training was nonexistent.
So, I enlisted the help of Rocio, one of the hostel receptionists. Like every other Mexican I had encountered, she could effortlessly dance to both songs. She patiently explained the nuances between the two songs, broke down the different steps, and after about 30 minutes of focused practice in the hostel lobby, I started to feel a glimmer of hope for my next attempt.
And, as fate would have it, that very night, we found ourselves back at my favorite club, Art Studios.
We started the evening on the karaoke floor. It was my first time experiencing karaoke where I didn’t recognize a single song – they were all popular Mexican hits from the 90s. Despite my unfamiliarity with the music, it was still a fun experience, and I was introduced to a catchy tune, “Cuando Calienta el Sol”.
Around 1:30 AM, as the karaoke floor began to wind down, I made my way downstairs to the dance floor, steeling myself for my third attempt at “Payaso de Rodeo.”
Because “Payaso de Rodeo” is a line dance, collective orientation is key. When the song begins in the club, a funny pre-dance ritual happens. Everyone starts pointing, on beat, in the direction they think the line should face. Then, the room subtly agrees on a direction based on where the majority is pointing. It’s a fascinating, unspoken coordination.
I found a spot on the dance floor and confidently danced through the slower “No Rompas Mi Corazón.” Then, I braced myself for the transition.
Adding to the challenge, someone had spilled beer on the floor, making it incredibly slippery. But, despite the hazardous conditions, my practice with Rocio paid off. I managed to keep up, successfully navigating the steps of “Payaso de Rodeo”! Victory, however slippery, was mine.
Fourth Attempt: Street Performance and Going (Slightly Less) Amateur
Fresh off my club success, I needed to return to the scene of my previous street-dance failures.
My last night out in Monterrey led us, once again, to Art Studios, which by this point felt like a second home. We spent the night dancing on the first floor, a change from our usual second-floor routine. Unfortunately, the first floor DJs didn’t include “Payaso de Rodeo” in their closing set.
As we left the club and spilled onto the street, post-club hunger struck. I bought some elotes served in a Tostitos bag – essentially a walking taco variation, and absolutely delicious. 10/10 would recommend for post-club snacking.
Munching on my Tostitos-elotes, I heard the unmistakable beat of “Payaso de Rodeo” coming from down the block. I took off running towards the sound. Sure enough, another impromptu street dance party had materialized, offering me another chance to showcase my newly acquired skills.
We organized ourselves into lines, and, with elotes in hand, I completed another successful run of “Payaso de Rodeo.” Dancing with a bag of elotes elevated my status from mere amateur to… slightly less amateur. I wouldn’t quite call myself a pro yet – some of the locals perform the dance with impressive intensity.
In the US, the closest dance equivalents to the Caballo Dorado phenomenon might be the “Cupid Shuffle” or the “Cha Cha Slide.” While I enjoy both, they don’t even come close to capturing the pure fun and energy of “No Rompas Mi Corazón” and “Payaso de Rodeo.” In the US, the “Cupid Shuffle” and “Cha Cha Slide” are often considered cheesy novelty dances. But in Mexico, “Payaso de Rodeo” seems to be genuinely and unironically loved by everyone. When it plays in a club, people erupt with excitement, and those street parties blasting music from car trunks? They put on “Payaso de Rodeo” knowing it will be an instant hit.
My nights out in Monterrey became some of the most memorable experiences of my time in Mexico. Learning the “Payaso de Rodeo” dance, going to the baseball game, and connecting with Armando’s friends all contributed to a rich cultural immersion. And, joining in those spontaneous street dances truly felt like experiencing authentic Mexican culture. If you ever find yourself at a Mexican wedding, you’re almost guaranteed to hear the Caballo Dorado songs. But be warned – “Payaso de Rodeo” is not for the faint of heart; it goes really hard.
