That is right – everyone has a good “tequila” story.  If you do not personally have one, you have most certainly heard a good one that is worth sharing.  Today I thought that I would share mine.  Take a moment and give thanks for that.  I’ll wait.

It was my senior year in high school and my boyfriend at the time asked me if I wanted to go down to Cape Hatteras, NC for the weekend with him and some buddies to drink and go surfing.  Of course my answer was yes, it was hell yes to be exact - who would turn down the two B’s?  Beach and Booze!  He asked what I wanted to drink while we were there and this is where my big mistake was made – I said tequila.  After our two hour drive down the coast and after we were settled in to our hotel, everyone decided to start drinking.  There was some macho talk about who could drink who under the table, and me being one to NEVER be out done, I decided that I could play quarters with the guys with tequila instead of beer.  Well I was chasing the tequila with the beer, but this is not a beer story, is it?

Now, I think that before I continue telling this story, it would be important to note one thing.  At this particular time, I was suffering from a nasty urinary tract infection and the medicine that I was taking for this had stickers on it that specifically stated (and I specifically ignored) “DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL & AVOID EXCESSIVE SUN EXPOSURE – This medication will make you more sensitive to the effects of alcohol and sunlight.”

So I kicked ass at quarters and shot by shot drank an entire liter of tequila by myself, chasing each shot with a Michelob.  At that point I decided to go for a walk and because it was hot, apparently I thought it was a good idea to strip down to my bra and underwear, which the older couple that was walking their dog on the beach probably really enjoyed, as I stood there petting their dog and asking how long they had been happily married.  My boyfriend followed my trail of clothes and found me down on the beach and got me back to the hotel room (after some apologies to the happy couple), where I thought it would be a good idea to smoke some pot - which is when I started feeling sick.  As I sat on the edge of the bed and told him that I thought I was going to be sick – he kept saying to me, “you’ll be fine.”  He stopped saying that after I projectile vomited onto his chest… twice.  The rest of my night was spent throwing up in to both the toilet and the trash can.  But this was not the worst of my experience – oh no…

The next morning at approximately 7am, all the guys decided to go surfing at the Lighthouse in Buxton, where they dragged my lifeless body and placed me on a towel in the sand on my back and left me.  Not once did any of them apply any sunscreen to me, or even flip me over for that matter.  At about 3pm I woke up from my coma, because I was so dehydrated, that I could not open my mouth.  I got up and drove across the street to the Texaco and got a Mountain Dew (not even wondering why people were staring at me).  I chugged that Mountain Dew like I had been in a desert for 30 days with no water and then proceeded to vomit the entire thing into the parking lot at the lighthouse.

The guys were finally done surfing and ready to head back to Virginia Beach, after giving me a hard time and letting me know that I was so sunburned that I already had second degree burns on my face.  NICE!  We started our drive home, where I curled up in the front seat under a blanket and passed out again (freezing because I was so burned).  Apparently, we got pulled over and I did not wake up through the entire process, which worried the police officer.  The guys explained to him how much I had had to drink the night before and because he was concerned, he came to the passenger side of the car and tried to wake me up.  I finally woke up while he was checking my heartbeat and listening to my breathing and that is when I leaned over and threw up on his shoe.  He made me go to a medical facility in Manteo, NC, where I had to be put on an IV and treated for alcohol poisoning and severe dehydration.

 

And what was my punishment for the whole tequila incident, besides the smell of tequila that oozed from my pores for six straight days?  Well, the only place that decided to peel was around my mouth.  The rest of my face tanned, while the area around my mouth, blistered, then peeled and looked like the raw skin of a burn victim for weeks.  I looked like I had been bobbing for french fries in a deep frier.  It was HOT!  To this day, I cannot drink tequila.  AT ALL.  I stick to rum. 

There, that was my tequila story.  What’s yours?