Tequila

When a bartender slams down a shot glass in front of you, overflows it with tequila, and says, 'enjoy, this is from me', you don't refuse. You don't push the glass away (even if you've never had tequila before in your young life). What you do is clear. You bring the glass to your lips, make eye contact with the bartender, and down the fucking shot. ... It's just being polite.

As I walked back to my apartment that night, I was happy. Very happy. Friends in tow, I turned to them and slurred slightly, 'Tequila is my friend.' Some frat boy walking the other way called out after me, 'Hey buddy, tequila is no one's friend.' Right then and there, I had learned all I needed to know about tequila.

Unfortunately, that was 7 years ago, and some leasons are forgotten with time. Last night, N. came over for some long overdue Margaritas on my roof. For a change, I went with the frozen variety. As I was blending them, I realized that maragritas are basically all alcohol. 'Sweet,' I thought. A few hours (and some good conversation) later, I was in a good mood ... so ... after N. made her way home, I headed out to meet some friends at a local watering hole ... where I met my good friend, Tequila, yet again. This time, she manifest herself in the guise of free shots (administered directly from the bottle). The bottle was in the expert hands of a hot go-go boy dancing directly behind me on the bar - and he had tapped me on the shoulder to see if I wanted one ... well ... i guess it was more like he grabbed my mohawk and tipped my head back ... but just the same. I should have known better - really - I should have. But, it kind of took me by surprise, and I had been waiting to buy a drink anyway, so I figured, why not. I opened my mouth, looked up, and only then, did I realize that the hot stud sending the stream of mexican goodness down into my mouth was the go-go boy. He either had no hard feelings OR he was trying to give me alcohol poisoning - cause all I know is that I was standing there swallowing mouthful after mouthful ... after mouthful ... after mouthful of my good friend tequila for a long time. My buddies swear it was half the bottle, but I can't imagine that it could have possibly been that much - I am, after all, alive today. The rest of the evening progressed rather uneventfully - but was fun none-the-less. I do vaguely remember, however, swaggering down the street on my way home slurring to no one in particular, "Tequila is no one's friend. No one's friend at all."

Lesson learned. Again.