Today, there are really only two reasons to order a round of tequila shots. One is that you are 19 using a fake ID, and the other is for a life changing party (ie. divorce, bachelorette party or mid-life crisis).
Everyone hast a “last time I drank tequila” story. Whether your last run-in with the liquor was a Spring Break trip through Cancun, that you will “never do again,” or hooking up with one of your good friends who you will “never talk to again.” Tequila brings out the wildest, most obnoxious and naked behavior known to man.
While I’ve had some casual meetings with tequila over the past couple of years, they’ve always followed with a dinner or several beers after one margarita. However, I think my last serious date with tequila was back in 2006. My two roommates and I were planning on meeting some other friends, but after the dinner portion we were just sick of the repeat Saturday nights and the broken record conversations between ourselves and group of friends. So instead, we came to the educated decision to ditch our group, grab a bottle of El Toro (that’s right) and take shots until the first person fell.
Among the three of us was someone who claimed to be able to drink both myself and my other roommate under the table because she was German, so naturally we did the cruel thing to our friend and made her use the double shot when we started. I don’t remember the details of how or why we decided to take shots, but Grease was playing on TV and I think we took a shot every time someone said the name “Sandy.” Obviously, things got a little crazy during the “Sandra D” ensemble.
My last memory of that evening was the German passed out on the floor, my other roommate dancing on the kitchen counter to Grease Lightning and I was on the couch making out with one of our “good friends” who decided to stop by after getting a drunk dial from one of us informing him that his three good girlfriends were drinking tequila. Whether or not this friend had a hidden agenda, we’ll never know because as (what could be) predicted, I haven’t talked to him since, minus one or two weird run-ins that were mostly silent.
Fast forward to this past weekend, I decided to face my fears and go head to head with my old friend, tequila. It would be a grown up party, so no shots of El Toro and not making out on our couch…or spare bedroom, but we were at least hoping our homemade margaritas were strong enough to at least promote someone to get naked and run down the street…
For the most part it was a let down. Sure, there was two or three attendees who were in the corner giggling and I”m pretty sure someone tried to set their hand on fire at one point, but all in all I think I just may have conquered my fear of tequila. She’s not such a bad broad…in smaller doses, that is.