I have heard that anyone who has puked after drinking Tequila will never drink tequila again.
I’ve also heard that everyone has a tequila story, especially those that have drunk it to the point of throwing up.
What I want is the tequila story… what have you done that only tequila could make you do? Lurid details are encouraged…
I’ll tell mine a little later today. heheheheh…
OK, this isn’t really a tequila story, but it does involve tequila.
I was at a fraternity party drinking kamikazes and some other stuff. I left moderately drunk, but on the two mile walk back to my fraternity house, the last two kamikazes hit me. So I arrive back there quite drunk and wanting more. I sit at our bar waiting for others, but get impatient, reach across the bar and grab the bottle of tequila from the shelf, and take a good long swig.
Then other people show up, and I have a large whiskey sour that I don’t think contained any sour mix, and another swig of tequila. The night was best known for me climbing into a trash can (luckily before puking in it) looking for a ping pong ball. I still have two scars on my knee from that night that I don’t remember getting. But it didn’t exactly turn me away from tequila. Then again, if puking were to turn me off alcohol, there wouldn’t be much left for me to drink.
There also a friend of mine who actually enjoys taking a shot of tabasco sauce followed by a shot of tequila. And he’s not even much of a drinker. I try to avoid things where tequila would be the chaser.
Singing from memory:
“Jose Cuervo, you are a friend of mine- I like to drink you with a little salt and lime. Did I kiss all the cowboys, did I shoot out the lights? Did I dance on the bar? Did I start any fights?”
That about summarizes my night with Jose. I have my “emptied” bottle at home- (they sent me home with it and a barf bucket). I was EXTREMELY sick the next day- couldn’t sit up straight until 4pm, then I was fine.
I now absolutely cannot smell it without my mouth watering with that pre-puke thing…also, I cannot smell a fresh cut lemon without gagging. I drank it twice since my first night with it, but only one or two shots. I now think I’m done forever. It was the best drunk I’ve ever had, I’ll tell you that much. Extremely clean and lucid- I knew exactly what I was doing, and I felt like I could have done anything. Crazy shit, man!
Zette
The problem with to-kill-ya stories is that the part that should be the best always ends up as ‘and then I don’t remeber anything else, but I woke up…’
A very short story: After several shots of tequila, I married my first husband. Big mistake. It took me three years to get out of that one and I haven’t touched tequila since.
I had a girlfriend many years ago that loved to drink tequila. One time, we were in a hot tub drinking tequila straight from the bottle. I could not believe my eyes when she downed about half of the bottle. I, trying to keep up with the girl, took a huge swig myself. Everything from that point, I do not remember.
The next day, she told me I had passed out and nearly drowned when my head went under water! She had to hold my head up and call for help. The next door neighbor helped her pull me out of the hot tub. It took me quite a while to drink tequila again.
Years later, I thanked my neighbor for never bringing this incident up.
The first alcohol I ever drank (except for the single stolen bottle of Mike’s Hard Lemonade I shared with my friend at a sleepover) was tequila. I did two shots and then, over the course of a couple hours (we were watching a WWF pay per view) did 13 shots of sour apple schnapps, two bottles of Mike’s (one of which was shared) and six buttery nipples. I ended up making out with my brother in law’s friend, but that was ok because I thought he was hot anyway. The alcohol probably did more for him than it did for me, I dunno. SO I don’t have an interesting tequila story…
My tequila story involves tequila (obviously), a stretcher, a few doctors, and a stomach pump. I still drink it though. It’s my liquor of choice.
I actually have a tequila story! I don’t know that it’s interesting, though.
A very, very long time ago, when I was more a fable than a legend, my future husband and I got together with some friends, a bottle of tequila, and a lime. The men of the group, having celebrated a bit more than my friend M and I had the night before, did a couple of shots of tequila apiece and then laid off. M and I kept on taking shots, complete with the salt and lime ceremony so dear to young lushes. We ran out of limes and switched to lemons.
I’m not sure what everyone else was doing, but M and I were having a lovely time sitting on the couch, bonding over tequila. We ran out of lemons and switched to a RealLemon plastic lemon. To the best of my recollection, the conversation was scintillating, but for some reason I could only see what was right in front of me and nothing in my peripheral vision. Something was apparently very funny to some others in the group, but I wasn’t sure what. We ran out of tequila and switched to mescal.
I don’t quite recall what happened during the latter part of the afternoon, except the involved discussion M and I had about who should eat the worm. I prevailed upon her to accept the honor. I do remember that I needed to use the bathroom but had a lot of trouble getting there because there was a metal heating grate in the floor and it hurt my hands. I believe we went home shortly after that. I don’t remember even having a hangover.
I still drink tequila, but I have yet to eat a worm.
I can falsify that hypothesis for you. The trick is, never ever smell it first. You’re just asking for trouble if you do. I don’t really have any good tequila stories (none that I remember, anyway), but can say this with certainty: body shot parties are a Very Good Thing.
I had a friend shave my head after we split a bottle of 1800. Apparently, I wasn’t satisfied because I still had stubble, so the last thing I said before passing out was “Get out the razor!”. He did. I awoke the next morning with a head as smooth as a baby’s bottom.
I can also debunk the myth that puking on tequila makes you forswear it. I still love a shot of reposado with a caballito of sangrita. It’s hard to find a bartender in the States who makes a good sangrita, though.
I drank tequila for the first and last time when I was 16. I went to a halloween party and we started doing shots of it. I only did 6-7 shots but I ate the worm from the bottle! Yuck! I remember that there was a strobe light at the party and it was really disorienting. I ended up puking for about an hour after I got home and I puked some more when I woke up the next morning. Haven’t touched it since.
I’ll share as much as I can remember
I went on a cruise this summer with my hubby and 8 other family members including my mom and siblings. We went to Key West and Cozumel.
In Cozumel we had a really busy day, snorkeling, swimming, shopping and it was really hot. We skipped lunch planning to eat late dinner.
We started drinking Corona’s and Dos Equis, then there was this place having a free “tequila tasting”. I had about 4 1/2 oz shots. Then we went to this really popular bar called Carlos and Charlies. The music was lound and the people were just wild. I had about 4 shots of tequila and I don’t remember how many “sex on the beach’s” that the server pours down your throat. All this was washed down by numerous Corona’s. People were dancing on the tables and taking off their clothes and just generally having a hell of a time.
We started out to go back to the boat and it hit me in the cab. My husband, sister and brother in law had to carry me knee walking drunk back on the boat, barely making it back in time. I didn’t puke, but I did have the mother of all hangovers the next day. I just lay around on the deck all day recuperating. It was great.
Here’s another person checking in to disprove this. I’ve puked up almost every liquor known to man and came back for more.
Now the problem is which story to start with . . .
The first one that jumps to mind (and coincidentally, the details are the least fuzzy) is while I was in the AF, stationed in San Antonio. If you aren’t familiar with San Antonio’s Riverwalk, it helps for this story. You can take a tour of the Riverwalk here:
http://www.hotx.com/hot/hillcountry/sa/tours/rbtour/rbtour-j/
In short, it’s a river that runs through the city and they’ve built all sorts of bars and restaurants and hotels along it. You can go on boat tours, which is what the link is to.
So my friends Tom and Greg and myself were barhopping along the Riverwalk, celebrating Cinco de Mayo (none of us are Latino, but what the hell, everyplace had drink specials!) and to get in the spirit of things, we decided all tequila, all night. Towards the end of the night, we’re sipping beers (I know, not tequila, but we needed a break) at a place called Dick’s Last Resort. We’re all feeling pretty fershnookered and Greg announces he wants to go swimming. It sounded like a good idea, so we stripped to our skivvies and jumped in the Riverwalk. We were having fun dunking each other splashing people walking by until the cops showed up and asked what we were doing.
Without missing a beat Tom says, “We’re looking for my contact lens.”
The cops made us get out and get dressed (all while being cheered on by passers-by) and took us into the station. There he called our First Sergeant to come get us, who was not at all happy to be called to the police station at midnight. The three of us were restricted to base for 60 days and forbidden to go to the enlisted club for 30 days.
I like you Crunchy!
And now for the story of how I invented the exciting but short lived game of Blotgammon.
Fortunately for all involved, the very first tequila I was ever exposed to was Sauza Conmemerativo. This was the tequila of choice for many years thereafter, until I discovered Herradura Blue Agave.
I was playing backgammon with the woman I moved to Silicon Valley to be with (and lived with for five years in times immemorial). We both thought it would be fun to institute a penalty of having to take a shot of tequila whenever one of your pieces was blotted during the game.
Needless to say I caught on rather quickly and managed to lose the second game by a fairly wide margin. This was because I had given my girlfriend almost no opportunity to avoid hitting my pieces on any given move.
After the third game or so she gave the technicolor yawn and we retired for the evening.
She was extremely pliable that night.
(Insert lacivious grin <here>.)
It involved a bachelor party (with me as the bartender) and bodyshots.
I believe I showed up the evening’s uh entertainment without ever taking my clothes off…and they were the ones with the double ended dildo.
I, too, have gone back to tequila after puking my guts out from drinking the stuff. However, my tequila stories are relatively tame.
The first: A friend of mine and I killed a bottle of Two Fingers while we were cruising around, trying to pick up chicks. About 12:30 a.m., we go to pick up his girlfriend, whom I was meeting for the very first time. We are driving around Louisville, Ky., smoking a joint. Immediately after the doobie went the way of all smoke, I felt a technicolor yawn coming on, and heaved my guts out the car window, leaving a long trail of puke down Broadway. Later, my friend told me he got an unpleasant surprise the next morning when he went out to open the passenger door and found vomit in the door handle. Amazingly enough, his girlfriend is actually one of the few women who have a high opinion of me.
The second: Didn’t get smashed on tequila, but was drinking it at a pretty wild party. This girl and I were engaged in heavy petting outside on the lawn when her brother (who is a pretty good friend of mine) and another guy came outside. We rolled behind a car while we were half-naked, and lay there for several minutes waiting for them to go back inside. It was pretty suspenseful at the time (the brother and I weren’t that close at that point in time), but it is hilarious to think back on.
The third: Two other guys and I split a bottle of mescal. I was already drunk on beer when we started on the mescal. We ate the worm and that is the last thing I remember because I passed out full-length on the living room floor.
Sue, could you give us a few more details, please? Inquiring minds want to know these things.
I think I peed in my friend’s kitchen sink one night when we were tequila binging, back in my younger days. He was in the bathroom, and I needed to go. I’m not sure if this actually happened or not, however. It’s rather fuzzy.
Another friend who was there that evening passed out on the floor, and I folded the fold-out couch bed over him to crash for the evening. It was like one-eighth of an inch from his nose.
He found it … interesting … when he woke up that morning.
He later had spiderweb blotches all over his face from puking all that day, from the little capillaries in his cheeks breaking while his face was in perma-retch.
What fun, eh?
I pretty much stick to beer now that I’m old and worn out.
::does a spit take with his shot of Casa Noble::
So when and where is the next Dopefest you’ll be attending?