Tequila and tattooed teardrops. (1062 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.69 on 18 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by MOssiah (View user info) at 2003-11-25 03:36:52 EST
An epic adventure (based on a true story) Title supplied by iddqd.
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I sat at the bar, wincing and cursing silently as I nursed the wound on my right temple with a bag of frozen peas. The clothes I wore were not my own. The bartender poured me a long glass of lemon lime and bitters. None of the six individuals surrounding me mentioned the lack of alcohol in my drink. No one put forth any witty banter remarking on how my makeup had run all over the place or the black teardrop on my face. There were no insults thrown. We didn't even look at each other. The fact that my skinny body was adorned with a large t-shirt bearing the words, "This used to fit, until I went to Jenny Craig's weight loss centre" didn't raise a laugh, a guffaw, a smirk, or an eyebrow. No one even battered an eyelid.
For you see, we had the mother of all hangovers. The father of all hangovers was present too, so was his uncle and second cousin twice removed. They were all arguing with each other, wondering why this little family reunion had to take place on such a hot day, oh yeah did anyone bring the mosquito repellant, and why must everybody shout at once, it's giving me a headache.
It all seemed like such a good idea. We were all so enthused at first. Dave's cousin Vij had arrived in Perth from the U.S. for a holiday. Dave wanted to show him that Aussies can drink better than Americans, so he enlisted my help, along with two other willing participants. Vij was about twice my weight, but I'm not a smart man, so of course I thought I could outdrink him because I am a stubborn and arrogant little bastard. What follows are only the brief passages of the night that I will never forget for there are even more passages that I'm sure I'll never remember.
We made a stop at a few local pubs, sculling a few beers here and there, before catching a ferry to Rottnest, a small island off the coast of Western Australia. After heading to our cabin for the weekend, we immediately unpack all the essentials:
Carlton Crownies - 1 slab.
Jack Daniels bourbon - 2 bottles.
Wild Turkey Rye - 1 bottle.
Baccardi Rum - 2 bottles.
Absolut Vodka - 2 bottles.
Bombay Gin - 1 bottle.
and of course...
...Tequila - 1 large bottle.
I stood back in disgust. "No Dave, I'm not drinking that shit. Crazy stuff happens when I drink tequila." Dave pulled me over and rummaged through my bag, finding a bottle he saw me secret away. "So you can drink Absinthe but you won't drink Tequila? You're an idiot."
"Be that as it may" I said, "I won't drink that shit. It tastes foul, makes me wanna throw up, and it makes me do zany things that I can never remember afterwards."
"Exactly! That's my man! Glad to see you're on board. Now let's get started."
I grimace at the prospect of drinking the dreaded clear fluid. It's vile taste is beating the sides of the bottle, trying to get out and assault my senses.
We down a few beers to get us started up again. I down a few more than I need, in vein hope that I'll be drunk enough that the Tequila's opening attack would be robbed of it's full effect.
Drinking games commenced. The rules were easy. Pick a card any card. Highest card drinks. Straight shots of Tequila. I pulled a King. Happy days. The bottle was brought before me. I stared at it. I sneered at it. It didn't sneer back. It politely looked back at me, knowing it had already won.
I could beat it. I could.
I opened the top, and the sound of the lid cracking shatters my ego. I placed the bottle down. Dave got irritated and poured my shot for me. I once again looked down at the seemingly innocent little glass with a clear substance that could be water to the untrained eye. However, the nose knows.
Tequila. It is my nemesis.
I contemplated different ways of getting out of drinking it, and then, disgusted at myself, picked up the glass and downed the contents, before slamming the shot glass down on the table. Then I slammed my hands down on the table with such a look of distaste on my face that I resembled a Skeksi from the Dark Crystal.
Thus began the night of horror. After an hour we realised that only three of us seemed to be drinking. Yes, it took us a full hour to realise that the rest were cheating. I'm surprised we figured it out at all by that stage. Needless to say, those charged with the cowardly act were subjected to a near fatal beating after incriminating evidence was found. The tequila had been demolished by three of us in a short space of time, and I was still alive and still in command of most of my faculties. Dave pulled out a second bottle of Tequila, as large as the first, but I no longer had the strength to complain. I had passed that point. I had ventured into the no mans land, where confidence arrogance and stupidity boomed loud and strong, beating all sensible ideas in the head, and shoving them under the mat where nobody would find them.
It was stuntman time. Not literal stuntman time like jumping off the balcony, that would come later. No no, it was Tequila stuntman time. We prepared a shot for each of us, some lemon pieces and some salt. What came next was apparantly painful to watch. Hell, if you think it's painful to watch, then don't ever try this. We drank the shot of Tequila, snorted a line of salt, and squeezed the lemon in our eyes. Someone must have held out a scream sign to the audience, because that's all I heard for a while.
If you enjoy swimming at the beach, then try this little experiment at home. It's like getting dumped in one nostril. Wipeout.
After this event, what I had feared was about to come true. I was turning. A metamorphosis was occurring. The mild Bruce Banner, um I mean MOssiah turned into a raging green beast. I started drinking bourbon. Doubles with coke. Then double doubles, straight. Then full glasses, sculled. Dave was telling me to slow down. He should have known better. Standing in a corner of the cabin I started to recite Sesame Street songs about an Aardvark. Who knows what sick part of my mind was opened up that day.
Oh no. Freestyler came on the radio. The devil had taken us all, so we all started to bounce and gyrate to the hypnotic beat. Suddenly, ideas began to flow. It was time. Time to jump off the balcony. I had the courage, I had the strength. No one could stop me now. I took a running leap and jumped...
...I never landed. With a confused look I watched the ground. It didn't raise itself to meet me as it normally would. I could fly! I yelled as loud as I could and tried to raise myself higher in the air. That didn't work. Looking above me I found that one of my arms was being held by Vij, who was trying to save me from a nasty fall. Clearly he was not aware of my supernatural abilities. I tried to wrangle myself free, but the American was strong. Perhaps he possessed some mutant energy. He was a bit large to be mistaken for a normal human.
He started to pull me out of danger's way, but realising how light his drunk and helpless baggage was, he started to jiggle me up and down like a tea bag. Oh what a fun game.
Not a good idea.
The tequila fairy came and used her immense powers to erupt from every orifice imaginable. Jet propelled tequila and bourbon shot out in every direction, forcing the local wildlife to scurry for their dear lives. I was lifted back to the balcony where I lay comatose. I don't know how long I was out for. Luckily upon awaking I revived myself with the contents of a bottle I discovered. Absinthe.
I was back in action, and rearing to go. I couldn't fly. Check. My mistake. I feel like I'm faster than I was before though. Only one way to figure it out.
"Let's race!"
It was a grand idea. We cleared the hallway. That would be our track. The first person to the wall would win. The hallway was only wide enough to race two at a time. I've never beaten Dave in a race in 25 years, but I felt confidence in waves. I should have known that the waves were just alcohol trails coming out of my mouth making my vision blurred. Vij counted us down. "3... 2... 1... NOW!" I was off. I was winning. I couldn't believe it. Dave was too drunk to take more than 2 steps, but I wasn't aware of this. I picked it up a gear, heading to the wall at breakneck speed. I had to get there first. There was an imaginary red ribbon running across the wall, taunting me, begging me to break it. I sprinted to it, shoving my chest out in front of me to cross it.
I hit the wall.
Hard.
I fell. Slowly. A wooden bookcase I had bounced off fell from the wall and landed on my temple.
Sleepy time.
I awoke with faces all around me. They were talking to me. I could hear them, but I could not respond. I couldn't talk. I couldn't seem to move. They looked very worried. They tried kicking me to see if I was faking it. It didn't work, but it made them look more worried. It was quite funny, like watching them without actually being there. After a while they returned to the table and started talking amongst themselves. Ursula, a friend of one of the boys who came, decided that would be the prime time to have her way with me. Her way is not the normal way. She uses utensils and tools and works at Exotic Piercings. She gave me a second ear piercing and drew some design on my face. I couldn't feel anything, and it was a remarkably surreal sensation.
I felt a sudden urge to extricate a blockage in my oesophagus. I needed to get up. I tried. I failed. I did the best thing I could. I struggled and managed to hold one hand in the air, the one that wasn't used as a tea bag string, (that wasn't working anymore). I held it aloft with all fingers showing. They noticed, but they didn't know what I was doing. I held one finger down. They continued to wonder. Another finger down. "What's he doing?" Another finger down, only two left. "He's counting down? Hmm." Another finger down.
"OH SHIT, HE'S GOIN TO CHUCK!!" There was a mad rush to pick me up and drag me to the toilet. Well done fellas, I almost made it. Almost.
Tequila, bourbon, absinthe and what appeared to be carrots (why carrots? will scientists ever figure out why carrots are always in the mix. I don't remember eating them) were sent free and the relief was incredible. There is something about the wretched puke that sends endorphins running all over the place. There was some red stuff coagulating in the bowl along with the other odiferous substances. I let go of the precious bowl for a moment and checked the inside of my mouth. There was blood smeared all over it when I brought it back.
Oh, I bleed.
After a brief wash down and a couple of faints, new garments were found for me to wear. My leather pants and black t-shirt were put aside in favour of some gaudy blue shorts and a weight loss clinic shirt. Just what I always wanted.
I checked the mirror and found my ear to be slightly bleeding. Damn Ursula. There was nothing else I could see that was wrong aside that my make-up had run all over the place, and there was a couple of spots of blood under my mouth. Funnily enough the tear drop under my eye was still looking ok. I sure put that on well.
Back into the grog. That's right. I challenged Vij to a straight Gin contest. Dave tried to dissuade me. He was whinging and complaining, saying something about blood or whatnot. I poo pooed him and raised the glass, and raised the bar to the American.
He gave up on the second glass scull, and admitted that I could drink more than him. I took another glass to celebrate, and tried to jump off the balcony again. I didn't even clear the railing. A good thing too, as Vij was slumped on the floor and in no state to save me again.
The morning found me lying on the balcony, wearing someone elses clothes, blood caked on my forehead, eyeliner and mascara smudged into my face, a dislocated arm, an overturned glass of gin by my side and a coppery taste of blood in my mouth.
The morning blessed me with heat, sunstroke and a killer hangover the likes of which I had never felt before. At this moment, I was unaware of 90% of the nights activities.
I walked back into the cabin, to see the carnage we had created. Vij was asleep on the floor next to a broken bottle of Bacardi, there was toast everywhere. I found 5 other bodies in beds throughout the shelter and the power was out.
After everyone arose, we headed to the bar to get a drink and wake ourselves up. I went to the toilet to relieve myself. Looking in the mirror, I cleaned my face up, getting rid of the caked blood and make-up. I scrubbed at the black tear drop, and pain ensued.
The ink tear drop wouldn't rub off. It wasn't ink. Much wailing and gnashing of teeth followed.
Typical.
As mother always said, "What starts in fun, ends in tears."
User Reviews
Submitted by Raul Duke <spamforhuber.at.hotmail.com> at 2004-11-01 17:19:16 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent story, I myself am a member of the stuntman club, but you forgot the best part. after you've snorted the salt, shot the tequila,and put the lime in your eye, your buddy has to punch you in the face. I dunno what kind of pansy ass drinking games they play where you're from, but do a real stuntman next time.
Submitted by Cindys_Younger_Sister (user info) at 2004-05-09 17:21:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by smileyfacepicnic (user info) at 2003-11-25 13:39:14 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Tequilla is brilliant stuff. Tequilla, and jamaica rum. Hey... I have some jamaica rum...
Submitted by anonymous <anonymous.at.yahoo.com> at 2003-11-25 12:54:27 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
excellent
Submitted by Bob_Dole (user info) at 2003-11-25 12:33:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
LOL, been there done that.
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2003-11-25 12:18:12 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
+2
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2003-11-25 11:22:09 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment.
Submitted by Insanethemind (user info) at 2003-11-25 09:40:08 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Ah yes. Absinthe and Tequila, the two most mayhem inducing liquids known to man.
Submitted by apollo88 (user info) at 2003-11-25 09:22:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I too have a similar aversion to tequila.
If blagged into it however I turn into Monster Man.
Submitted by jordanna (user info) at 2003-11-25 08:38:35 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Aaaaaaaaaahahahahahahahaha
That was funny as fuck!!
Submitted by Hairsphincter (user info) at 2003-11-25 07:27:33 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Fair enough.
Submitted by Franger (user info) at 2003-11-25 07:08:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
I'm sorry but makeup in general is wrong, I don't like makeup on women much either, I especially don't like it on men.
Submitted by Hairsphincter (user info) at 2003-11-25 06:06:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
This was great.
Shot of Cuervo, followed by a slice of orange with cinnamon, brown sugar and nutmeg.
Franger, your reply brings out the red in your neck. Dude, grow the fuck up.
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2003-11-25 05:48:37 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
tequila fucking rules.
my favourite shot is tequila and tabasco - about seven drops of tabasco, any more any it start to overbear.
also, a mate of mine and i accidently discovered an excellent one, when some fool left thier bar open at a party we went to: black sambuca and tabasco. i highly recommend it it is REALLY nice.
Submitted by Franger (user info) at 2003-11-25 04:29:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Wait, so you're a guy but you were wearing makeup? Fag.
Submitted by Miss_Sim (user info) at 2003-11-25 04:06:07 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by RubySlipper (user info) at 2003-11-25 03:44:59 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Another +2 for my remarkable typing/spelling skills in that response.
Submitted by RubySlipper (user info) at 2003-11-25 03:43:20 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I couldn't even read the whoel thing for fear of puking. Seriosuly your description of the tequils was enough for me. +2 because it is also my nemesis- and everything that happened to you AFTER, hilarious.