A: Tequila!
Having already spoken of my late-teens tonic of Snakebite and Black in 'Blackout' I don't want you to think this Blog to be the memoirs of an alcoholic. However, I do feel compelled to also tell you of the tipple from my twenties - tequila! And then seriously warn you to STAY WELL AWAY!
I first discovered this devil's drink as a result of all the Tex Mex bars that began to spring up in the early 90's. In darkened establishments you could partake of nachos covered in scalding cheese, food stuffs cunningly concealed in various tortilla raps and wash it down with with a bottle of beer (topped off with a slice of lime) or tequila in one of its forms - there being three ways of administering it with various degrees of mental and bodily disintegration!
The first is the shot - a lick of salt, a shot of tequila and a suck on yet another lime. This was okay but very complicated, often involving the ingredients going everywhere other than down your throat and sparking arguments as to the exact order of consumption. The second was the more sophisticated margaritas - those deceptively tasty pitchers of tequila mixed with lime juice and drunk from glasses dipped in salt. Margaritas would slip down so easily, slowly inebriating you from the ground up. Half way through the meal you began to realise that your legs were numb and by the time the bill arrives it was just tickling your brain. But it was only when you left the restaurant that the full effect would hit you - possibly something to do with all that unhealthy fresh air!
The other method, and the most devastating for me, was first demonstrated at 'Break for the Border' in London where people patrolled the place with tequila and lemonade slug from holsters ready to pass out 'The Slammers'! Shot of tequila, shot of lemonade, cover with a napkin, hand over the top, spin three times, bang three times and then down in one. There would then be a rush of bubbles down your throat, a burning fizz up your nose and a sinister crackling behind the eyes. Again no obvious effect straight away, other than the physical revulsion to the drink itself, but moments later your brain would start to leak out your ears!
Remarkably slammers soon became my favourite way to send an evening with friends. Firstly, sort out a number of movies to watch. Then bring out a wooden chopping board, a tea-towel, some tequila and let the slamming begin! My sister even had a Mexican themed party once when we shared a flat. The evening was complete with Mexican food, home-made guacamole, chillies, tequila in all its guises and for desserts - Bandit biscuits!
Unfortunately the real evil of tequila used to be the hangovers. Nothing I ever tried seem to help stave them off other than staying in bed the following day, all day!. MW(TG) had always maintained that she had never experienced a hangover in her life until the night I introduced her to slammers. On that occasion she and I were visiting a friend for the evening and as the slammers went down another malevolent side-effect became obvious - memory loss! One minute I was drinking and discussing the merits of 'Withnail and I' - next thing I knew the film was almost over and I was lying on the floor gripping the leg of a table for dear life!
On another occasion I awoke from a night that I knew had somehow involved drinking but not entirely sure what. As my mind was delicately probing the inner workings of my being to see if getting up and staying up would be possible, a similar exploration of my surroundings brought confused messages. First of all I realised there was something metal under my pillow. When my brain finally recognised it as the leg a chair it just confused me even more. I discovered later from friends that like a rock-band on tour I had succeeded in trashing my own room. My bookcase, for example, had exploded, from where I'd run into it while trying to turn on a light. I had also inexplicably stripped my bed and left the mattress standing up on end. And for no reason I was sleeping on the floor with my quilt and pillow (hence the appearance of the chair leg) but with my legs on the bed base! Like an astronaut waiting to be launched into space! And staring down from my desk was an empty bottle of tequila and a sodden tea-towel.
I finally saw that tequila was not the happy drink I first thought. For one thing it tasted foul and for the sake of a few hours of joy the results were embarrassment, a hangover from hell and the destruction of personal property. The cons far outweighed the pros. I forswore the stuff and moved on to sensible, moderate drinking instead. I did have one relapse, however, when a quiet night out with friends in Hammersmith once took on a surreal twist.
We saw on arriving at a bar that a disco was being set up, but not thinking we'd be there long decided to stick with it, even after hearing that there was likely to be an ABBA theme to the evening. While supping on our pints a woman arrived at table carrying a tray on which was an array of colourful dots in mini cake-cups.
"Would you like a jelly shot?"
"Jelly what now?"
"They're jellies - but made with tequila."
Like Alice in Wonderland these treats screamed out "Eat me!" and so I did. I had one jelly and one instant revelation. Here was tequila in a shot that actually tasted good! No salt or lime! No lick or suck! No table denting or alcoholic bubbles! Just a jelly fruitiness with a delicate tang. But the proof of the pudding and all that - what would be the result? Would we suffer any less and avoid embarrassment? Could this truly be the solution! In a word, no! Two hours and a tray of jellies later myself, my friends and indeed the whole bar were standing on the tables singing 'Dancing Queen' with our faces now doubt rainbow-stained like kids at a party!
Tequila would only ever be the winner in such a destructive relationship so I have not touched a poisonous drop again since...
...not that I remember anyway...
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