Ah, tequila… haven’t had any since I spent a Saturday night in Tijuana, going from one purveyor of adult beverages to another…

I vaguely recall being in one bar where the barmaids would randomly blow a whistle, and they would pull somebody’s head back and pour a shot down their throat before they knew what was going on…

Actually, that could be a good way to boost attendance at the Joe… a shot for every whistle!

Posted by Ryan from Syracuse, NY on 12/16/07 at 09:51 PM ET

Tequila poisoning?  I had that once, but I was naked and being chased thru a stadium full of laughing people.  There was fireworks, and talking dogs that told me which way to turn.

Should have stayed with the mason jars.

Posted by HockeyTownTodd on 12/16/07 at 09:58 PM ET

HA. Lightweights. You all may have MET Tequila, but you don’t KNOW her until you’ve woken up in a different state with a handful of crushed blackberries in one pocket and an blotchy autograph from Downtown Julie Brown in the other.

May 29, 1999. Weirdest f’in night of my life.

God bless you Patron.

Posted by Gabriel from San Diego, CA on 12/16/07 at 10:06 PM ET

Ah tequila, how I once knew her.  I remember being introduced to those pushy mf’ers in the striped shirts while stationed in CA (USAF baby!).  Went down to Tijuana, ended up drinking way too much and puking right at the border crossing while my friends laughed and pointed.  Oh and that bullsh#t whistle blowing was what got me in trouble in the first place.  I kept looking around like a dumbass trying to figure out what the celebration was about.

Posted by DavetheBrave from Washington DC on 12/16/07 at 10:54 PM ET

This is why those of us who’re allergic volunteer to be your designated drivers…blackmail material

I hope you feel better, Bill.  Tums are your friends.

Posted by George Malik from South Lyon, MI on 12/17/07 at 03:54 AM ET

“HA. Lightweights. You all may have MET Tequila, but you don’t KNOW her until you’ve woken up in a different state with a handful of crushed blackberries in one pocket and an blotchy autograph from Downtown Julie Brown in the other.

May 29, 1999. Weirdest f’in night of my life.”

Don’t be a TEASE, Gabriel!! Give us the goods, buddy. Give it up!!

Posted by dougie on 12/17/07 at 06:32 AM ET

That’s better than my, “Shut up the guy hanging out of the sunroof, screaming, ‘I can’t go to jail, I’ve got a pretty mouth!’!” at the border story…

Posted by George Malik from South Lyon, MI on 12/17/07 at 06:47 AM ET

I’m surrounded by reprobates. 

This is why those of us who’re allergic volunteer to be your designated drivers…blackmail material

A kindred spirit!

Sounds like the birthday party got a little out of hand.  Feel better soon, Bill.

Posted by Baroque from Michigan on 12/17/07 at 06:56 AM ET

Hey Chief, which is worse… the act of what they call a “celebration” of another years past - or - the morning after?

Happy belated birthday, hope it wasn’t too bad for ya.  The older we get the longer it takes to recover.

Posted by cementslinger from Midland MI on 12/17/07 at 08:06 AM ET

Chief -

A Wendy’s Triple with bacon and a 128 oz. Coca Cola has been scientifically proven (by me) to ameliorate the effects of cheap-ass tequila.

I stick to Cuervo 1800 myself - it’s the only cactus juice I can drink without fear of scraping up bail money.

Posted by TeamDub from The gratch. on 12/17/07 at 08:31 AM ET

Tequila…feh.  Only good for margaritas, other than that it’s not worth the time of day, although Chief’s got it right that Patron is a decent brand.  And if you think you feel rough the morning after tequila, try mezcal.  An accurate comparison would be champagne and gasoline.

I once got dragged to Cancun for Spring Break with some friends—they had this zany idea that they needed a Spanish speaker with them.  At my insistence, we left the beaches behind one day to get a flavor of the real Yucutan.  Predictably, they found Merida and a cheap cantina.  I left them there for half an hour to talk to a guy and his sister selling tamales.  When I came back in, they were yelling at the waiter, who didn’t understand much English.  I asked what was going on.  The waiter told me in Spanish: “These cabrones [no literal translation of this, closest approximation is ‘deadbeats’] owe me fifty dollars American for the tequila they drank.”  I translated for them.  Then the dumbest couple of lines I ever heard out of them:

“That was fifty dollars’ worth?!?”

“That was tequila?!?”

Que lastima.

Gabriel, now it’s your turn.

Feel better, Chief.  Vaya con dios.

Posted by AndrewFromAnnArbor from la casa del anglos on 12/17/07 at 09:08 AM ET

Heh, I’m afraid the story isn’t nearly as interesting as the shroud of mystery.  I will say thought that the most disturbing part was actually finding out that no amount of alcohol will make Downtown Julie Brown less annoying.

Posted by Gabriel from San Diego, CA on 12/17/07 at 11:21 AM ET

Cazadores > Patron
It seems smoother to me, which could be a bad thing I guess.

Posted by Aaron from Phoenix on 12/17/07 at 11:34 AM ET

This is quickly turning into a “How f’d up did you get on X substance” blog!  And I am the proud father of such conversations. Yay me!

it’s the only cactus juice I can drink without fear of scraping up bail money.

Ahhh…bail money. Sigh, how I miss the haunting fear of spending more time in jail with Alexander the Great, who gained this nickname because he conquered everything in sight.

Posted by srt on 12/17/07 at 12:59 PM ET