59 lines
3.8 KiB
Plaintext
59 lines
3.8 KiB
Plaintext
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Drunk in Mexico, Part 1
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by Zippy
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My folks have a place at Amistad Acres outside of Del Rio, Texas, near
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Lake Amistad Reservoir, which in turn lies half in Texas, and half in Mexico.
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For years now, this has been a place of refuge and fun for members of my
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family, friends, and myself. Fishing, eating, watching Satellite TV, reading,
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and drinking copious amounts of alcohol usually dominate the time spent down
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there for those lucky enough to have made the trip.
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There is, however, another activity that we males occasionally engage in
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that is not nearly as safe as the aforementioned activities. This 'other'
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activity involves a short journey across the Border, and into the infamous
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Mexican town of Acunia. Excitement awaits those willing to take this journey,
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as well as a myriad of temptations that, while seeming like tremendous fun at
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the time, will usually leave the unsuspecting with a pounding head, and
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reddened eyes the next morning. Hell, even if you DO know what to expect,
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chances are you will spend the next morning wishing you were never born, or at
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least had enough courage to know when to stop with the consumption of all the
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liquors you put in your body the previous evening. Great fun, indeed.
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Oh, the pleasures for the senses are great! You may decide to take a meal
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at one of the fancy restaurants, or you may just decide to go bar-hopping. And,
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for just one dollar, you can have your choice of many of the fine Mexican Beers
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available down there- Corona, Tecate, XX, Bohemia, and Superior. Of course, the
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tequila flows as freely as the Mississippi as well, and Mexican Bar-tenders
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tend not to skimp on the dosage of this deadly libation. Why, just one
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Margarita would be enough to make an ordinary person walk crooked.
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But the Devil in the Bottle for me is a mind-numbing concoction called
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El Presidente Brandy. It's cheap, it's sweet, and makes the tongue long for
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more. It also is The Great Evil Giver of Hang-Overs and the Maker of You Doing
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Stupid Things. It makes toothless hags appear as Helen of Troy; it makes you
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Rich and Powerful; it even makes you speak Spanish FLUENTLY. Never mind the
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fact that you won't remember ANY of that the next day!
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Of course, none of this matters while you are involved in all this
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revelry. From the first-person perspective, it's all just huge amounts of fun.
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It never even occurs to you that you are writing the epitaph for multitudes of
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brain-calls that will magically disappear as your liver attempts to deal with
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the oncoming flood of Cheap Booze.
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And, the Mexican Locals are so HELPFUL. They usher you into the various
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bars and Hole-in-the-Walls with shouts of "Bienvenidos!" which literally means,
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"Welcome!" in Espanol. The Bar-tenders and waiters are ALWAYS more than willing
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to come to your aid should you find yourself nearing the bottom of a drink.
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Locals are always more than happy to come up to you and indulge you in their
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broken English greetings, with offers of free drinks and cigarettes. The fun
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continues on and on and on and on and on, because the bars don't shut down
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until around four in the morning, or everyone has passed out or gone home.
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Once you have had enough of all this revelry and fun, it's time to stagger
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out to a waiting cab, and ride back across the bridge so that you can drive
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yourself home, with barely the faintest thought of the Hell you will feel in
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the morning. And, feel like hell, you most certainly will, but if you are lucky
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enough to not get the bed-spins, you will glide off to sleep with the same lips
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that you used to suck down all the poison curled into a pleasant, albeit
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DRUNKEN, smile.
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-+=END=+-
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