Friday, February 18, 2011

The Tequila Story

If you're a drinker, then chances are you have your very own "The tequila story." Everyone I know does. Justin got drunk on tequila at a company Christmas party and ended up breaking his thumb. He doesn't know how. My mom told us that dad got drunk on tequila over a vacation and sat in the bathtub laughing manically to himself  and telling her he was in the mafia. My story does not involve breaking bones or sitting in bathtubs. It involves puke. Lots and lots of puke.

We went on our first cruise as a family four months before I turned 21. Now I wasn't a big drinker but I had definitely done some drinking in my time, and I was super disappointed that I couldn't legally get schwasted around my parents, sisters, and grandma in a tropical location. The boat we were on had 18 bars and a dance club that was 18 stories up with a 360 degree view.

I begged my dad to slip me drinks the whole week, and he did comply here and there with a daiquiri or margarita. But I wanted more. I begged him to have a 'father/daughter' drunkfest with me. We were on vacation! Finally, on the last night on the boat, he gave in. There was the pesky problem of me not being 21 though, and we weren't sure that I could get served even with his consent. So what do we do?

I go up to Grandma's room and get her ship I.D. You see, back in 2005, Princess Cruise lines did not include a picture I.D. on their ship cards, or a date of birth. They simply branded the card "A" for adult in the bottom right hand side of the card and you were set to drown yourself in booze if you wanted to. With that, I became Alice.

The first two bars we checked out I stuck with the easy stuff - two 16oz daiquiris. At the third bar I got a beer. At the fourth bar I got another beer. I was pretty good at this point. It's then that dad says:

"You want to put some hair on your chest?"


"We'd like two shots of tequila please."

Not just any tequila, either. He ordered 1800. And when the guy set them down in front of us they were double shots, in those extra large shot glasses. Let it be known I had never had tequila before. I was nervous. Dad ordered more beer as a chaser and down the hatch went the tequila. I laughed afterward - what the hell was he talking about?

"That shit was smooth!"

"Oh yeah? Want to do another?"

I did.

Things start to get blurry at this point. I remember snippets of the night. I remember walking around to three or four more bars (continuing to get double shots at each). I remember sitting by the pool for a while chatting. I remember laying out on the deck chairs (even though it was well past dark and probably chilly) talking and getting all drunk emotional. I remember dad making me walk a straight line and being shocked at how well I did it (I have no idea how I did this; he was probably too shit-faced himself to really see me.)

I remember being back inside at one point at yet another bar and walking through the dining room to get to the bathroom and how everything literally looked like this:

In all, I had two 16oz mixed drinks, five beers, and eight double shots of tequila. If you do the math, that's approximately sixteen ounces of tequila.

As all good things do, the night had to come to an end. He dropped me off in the room I shared with my sister Rachel and I crawled in to bed. In my clothes.

Here's the thing. Since it was our last night on board we had to pack all of our bags up earlier that evening and set them outside to be stored with only the outfit we were going to wear off the ship left behind. I was wearing the only outfit I had to disembark in.

The next thing I remember was sitting straight up in bed, staring at the wall, and then opening my mouth.
There was absolutely zero effort on my part to projectile vomit - all over myself a bit, but somehow all that tequila and stomach acid managed to land in the (brand-new just-bought Puma) duffel bag I was carrying off the boat.

Contents of said bag:

My digital camera
Rachel's digital camera
My four month old video camera
A $50 cookbook that was signed by our waiters (one of which was named Bruno and totally got his flirt on with me), the cooks, and the Maître De.
Our toothbrushes
Rachel's bathing suit that she had apparently forgotten to pack

The fun didn't end there. I had to crawl on my hands and knees to get to the bathroom and the toilet.

I made it as far as the threshold before I projectile vomited all over the floor.

 I was able to get into the bathroom and get my face over the toilet before the third wave hit. I swear to GOD it was all Mexican food in my puke. There were tomatoes, chiles, peppers, and frijoles in the mix even though I had not eaten anything Mexican all week. SOMEHOW, somehow, in my intoxicated state, I got a towel off the rack and did my very best to clean the puke up off the floor before crawling back to my bed and passing out again. I did not remember to clean the bag up.

The next morning the phone rang quite a few times before my parents came down to see why were weren't up. I heard the door open, and I distinctly remember my dad's voice.


It isn't possible for me to accurately describe how horrific our 8 x 8' room smelled. Imagine yak's stomach acid mixed with rotten tomatoes and decaying dead bodies. That would probably get you close. I could barely function, and I was still drunk. My brand new Puma bag and the toothbrushes unfortunately had to go in the trash. So much for trying to freshen up that tossed tequila-cookie breath! I don't recall what I did to clean the cameras and video camera but they did make it home (and I later spent an hour in the garage with a q-tip cleaning vomit out of their crevices).

Hey, remember when I said that I slept in the only outfit I had to wear the next day? Oh yeah. Guess what I smelled like? Remember this picture?

It was at least 10 times worse than that. As we filed off the ship we had to show our passports at a counter. I knew that I smelled like a goat's stomach after a full day of eating rotten garbage so I quickly just flipped my I.D. onto the counter and took a big (what I hoped would not be noticeable) step away. Guy looks up at me.


WTF DUDE? Is this really a yelling offense?? I'm trying to spare you from your own trip to puke city after you smell me. I take a big step back to the counter, mumble something unintelligible, grab my I.D. and scuttle away like an abused little drunkard.

We had to go into a gigantic warehouse and wait while dudes brought out everyone's luggage. Then we waited in large groups to be herded to the next location. When I found my bag I immediately hauled it as far away as I could and sat on it with my head ripping apart. People still came near. I'd see noses wrinkling, people looking around in dismay for the source of that ripe stench.


Finally we moved out into the parking lot where it was a shark infested water frenzy to hail a taxi cab. When a big van pulled up I jumped in and immediately went straight to the back seat. I had pulled a hoodie out of my bag, hoping that it would at least help cover up the smell until I could change. The driver of the van sniffing loudly and looking all around him and then in the rear-view confirmed that it did not.

We had driven to Florida in my dad's RV. The feeling of riding in one, if you never have, can be compared IMO to the feeling of being on a boat. It is never a good idea to try to attain sea legs when you are hung over as all mighty hell in a hand basket. So I sat at the table with a wastebasket between my legs, intermittently dry heaving and retching for the next 19 hours it took us to get home - sitting across from my GRANDMA. Who just rode along like she had no idea her granddaughter had spent all night getting blackout drink with her I.D. and was now barfing up more Mexican she had never eaten.

If that doesn't scream Leave It to Beaver Family Vacation I don't know what does.

It's been six years since then and the smell of tequila alone is enough to turn my face green. My first and last tequila story; thank God it's good enough to tell the kids whenever I get around to wanting to have some.


  1. Oh the havoc tequila plays on our lives.

    In my youth I used to drink and puke my fair share of Jose Cuervo. We used to be good pals. And if I could only remember some of my stories of those drunken nights.

    And my tequila days are more refined and not as wild and crazy. I drink Patron now and love every drop of it. I just don't puke it up anymore.

  2. Oilfield - More power to you man; once I realized that most of my liquor nights ended up with me on the porcelain I switched to beer :-)

  3. You're hysterical!
    The last time I got sick from drinking, is also going down in history as one of my more infamous nights (this past August)... one that ended the following day with me waking up on my best friends sofa (after an hour of puking under her porch stairs and obtaining a bruise the size of a bowling ball on my right butt cheek from multiple efforts to stand up again) to a txt msg that read: "where are you?!"... and my reply of "on your sofa, retard" was typed as I looked up to see her feet hanging off the end of her bed in the next room. Apparently I was not the only one that had too much fun that night. There are STILL 2 unaccounted for hours... I really hope I did something awesome.

  4. Goofy - Haha it's good to know she was at least worried about you in the morning! Probably wouldn't have been real cool to wake up under her porch. Lol

  5. That was a great story - I can't do tequilla at all, but I still have that same spinning room vision on cruise ships without the alcohol!

  6. laughingmom - Lol well it could either be horrible or it could be a really cheap way to have a lot of fun :-D

  7. omg, girl, ur SOOO crazy! hahaha. I love it!

  8. Jessica - Oh honey, I'm sure I could tell a few more stories about our girl's nights that would be just as crazy :-)

  9. Wow, if I ever had the desire to drink (which I haven't), I sure as heck don't have the desire anymore. Haha. Funny. But I bet not to you.

    So your grandma knew you took her card?

  10. Vomit bag has got to be the top 10 embarrassments in life – next to accidentally wearing a women's thong to the pool. Totally not me. A um friend. Again, those drawings are begging to be on comedy central or adult swim!

  11. That is one hell of a tequila story! Love the visually descriptive drawings, too. Cover your eyes: I love tequila and don't have any tequila stories. One or two drinks are plenty for me, though (low alcohol tolerance = cheap date).

  12. CLASSIC!!!
    This is so damn funny! I loved it. I have a story a bit like this. I'll skip the drinking part and cut right to where I woke up in the gutter of a busy street lying in a pool of my own spew. Man that tequila was smooth...

    Great story and drawings Tara!

  13. This is my favorite story. After the fact. You forgot to mention that you puked on the only shirt I had packed to wear the next day.

  14. Shannon - Oh this didn't keep me from drinking. I enjoy drinking. I don't enjoy puking my guts up, so I don't drink liquor anymore. And yes, Grandma knew. I'm sure she figured I couldn't get into much trouble with my dad. Lolz to that.
    Copyboy - Haha!! Women's underwear... maybe you need to email me with a guest post story about that!
    On my Soapbox - Rare indeed! Everyone I know has some kind of tequila story. Count yourself lucky :-P
    Pat - Hahaha aww Pat, I had a feeling that you had a story :-) It IS so smooth, isn't it? It's like a vindictive woman :-D <~~ Hoping feminists don't read this. Tis a joke ladies.
    Rachel - Didn't mention it because I didn't remember that.... I remember your bathing suit though. I don't think this is my favorite story, maybe because I've had to tell it and retell it to family and friends 1,000 times :-)

  15. My tequila story involves a cheeseburger from mcd's and the guys I was with convincing me that a girl we went to HS with rubbed my cheeseburger on her lady parts (she was working the drive thru). My drunk ass barfed in the garbage disposal. Classy, I know.

  16. Amber - Hahahaha, I think we all know when it comes to the tequila the story isn't going to be classy :-)

  17. Your tequila story is wayyy better than mine.
    And can I just say, I could practically smell the vomit while I was reading your tale of woe.
    Your cartoons are amazing!

  18. Sandra - LOL I can smell it any time I think about it. Ick! And thanks! :-D

  19. I'm sure your dad had a good time explaining that one to your mom. Too funny!

  20. FreeFlying - Lol she was a little mad at him the next day but now we all laugh about it.

  21. Tequila- The Get Nekkid and run down the street before you know it drink!



  22. I have only drank Tequila one pregnant. Never drank it again. Never got pregnant again either!


  23. This is EXACTLY what I needed to read right before bed! This makes my day better. Well, sorta. I think I love you.
    And to think, I only came here to say I FINALLY "received" the award you gave me like a month ago.

    Oh, and I LOVE the sound effects on the pictures!!

  24. Sherri - OMG! I am for sure not drinking any tequila anymore! :-D
    Miley - Hahaha, when I wrote it I totally thought, "This would make an excellent bed time story." And I love you too Miley. Sweet dreams! :-D

  25. I had a similar experience with shots of vodka. It was probably three or four years before I could even THINK the word "vodka" without the hair on the back of my neck standing up...


  26. Pearl - Oh man, vodka was the first thing I ever drank and since beggars couldn't be choosers I drank a lot of nasty cheap vodka. I get the SAME THING when I think about it now. The hair raise AND a shudder down the spine.

  27. hahah i have my tequilla stories :( try "rakija" if you come to croatia. it's even better :D
    nice drawings btw

  28. Laughing Vault - I'm half Croatian so I've always kind of wanted to visit that area (family is originally from Banat and Klek). I HIGHLY doubt I will remember Rakija, but I would love to try it!! :-)


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