Saturday, June 21, 2008

Elementary, My Dear Readers.

Sit back in your armchair, grab a pipe, and put on your Sherlock Holmes hat, dear readers, we've got a mystery to solve!....

Let me tell you the tale:

It was a dark and stormy Thursday. Although the sun was shining everyone at work was grumpy, I had received a random and intense phone call from an ex, and everything was topsy-turvy. So as the day wound down a co-worker and I decided to go to a local establishment called the Caliente Cab Company to drown the day in margaritas and guacamole.

But lo! I was determined to be a responsible drinker! I had homework and the possibility of going to the Modest Mouse secret show (which, alas, never materialized) I sipped my first margarita slowly while shoving chips dipped into vast amounts of guacamole into my mouth. I'd say thirty to forty-five minutes (possibly even an hour) later we ordered our second batch of chips and a second round of Margaritas.

I was feeling nothing from the tequila at this point. Granted, I don't really partake in tequila but I wasn't even tipsy. Then all of a sudden- halfway down through the second margarita (which, actually, was quite large) I realized: I am DRUNK! Capital D, Capital R, Capital U (you get the point). Not just drunk, but wasted, slurred speech, inability to focus, the whole shebang.

My cohort, on the other hand, was doing fine, so fine in fact that she had her boyfriend meet up with us and we walk/stagger to 3rd and Long where she demands that I get a beer even after my protestation and my sincere desire to go home and only drink water. I go to the bathroom and try to throw up.

Yes, dear readers, after 1 1/2 margaritas at 9PM I'm in the bathroom trying to barf. Nothing.

Eventually, they put me in a cab, I made my way home and spent the entire next morning in a zen/yoga breath trance willing myself to make it to work and not vomit. I succeed! (This zen/yoga breath mantra thing I did was so successful I'm going to add it to my hangover repertoire, but that's another tale). Once at work I find out that my partner in crime had spent her entire night vomiting with her boyfriend holding her hair back.

So this three hours of drinking begs the question: What the hell happened, Holmes? How did two girls get so violently wasted after only two margaritas (in all honesty, to report the facts, cohort had a gin and tonic and I had most of a BudLight as well, after the margaritas)?

I've gone through all the possibilities....Margarita #2 didn't taste any more alcoholic than Margarita #1? Was the tequila bad? And then the grand question, could we have been roofied? (Which I say with a grain of margarita salt because I know it sounds ridiculous, but the intensity of the drunk along with the vomiting forces you to think of all possibilities, even the most sinister).

So super have your nights with tequila gone? Anyone have any other horror stories out there? What do you think happened? Comment away.

Yours truly,


cynthia grier lotze said...

i seriously think we can count tequila in as a date-rape drug all on its own, my dear watson. say it was but a mere one notch better tequila than the swill they keep on the rail - that stuff is sneaky when it's even a little more expensive. maybe the bartender liked your daisy-dukes and slipped you the good stuff?

Julia Ralston said...

*shudder* I don't have much more to offer than that. Thank you for making me shy away from hard liquor for the forseeable future.

swandad said...

As a witness to said drunkard's sad tale, I can honestly say there are no theories to be had. She was just plain drunk!!! Cute, yet drunk!!!

Bless her heart.