That last post was not finished. I had started out to make a simple point and got completely sidetracked on that story. Then it was time for dinner and I couldn't figure out how to save as a draft, so I just published it. I had intended to come back to it sooner, but, well, I didn't. So let's get this thing finished so that I can go on to some other things that have been on my mind.
So when we last saw me, I was lying on the second floor of my friend's house in the middle of the night, puzzling over how I got there. Even feeling as badly as I did, I eventually got bored just sitting there and very carefully made my way down the spiral staircase. There was one of the group still sitting there, mostly conscious. He started chuckling after raising his head and peering at me as I approached. I sat down and listened to him tell me how I had decided after a lot of tequila to go upstairs and flop in our hosts' bed. I wondered how much was "a lot" of tequila and picked up the tally sheet we'd been keeping. Looked like I hit the wall at 17 shots, this in a relatively short period of time (maybe 2 to 3 hours). Now, apparently the wife of the couple whose house we were in had gone up to bed an hour or so before I decided to do the same. None of the other guys were concerned about my decision, since none of them thought I would make it up the spiral staircase. They were almost right. According to my friend, about halfway up the stairs I looked over at them and smiled as I started to topple off the side. But they were amazed as I casually reached up and caught the floor above me, steadied myself, and continued up the stairs and into the bedroom. There followed the shriek of my friend's wife, at which point the others stumbled up the stairs themselves to find me completely unconscious on the bed. They picked me up and unceremoniously dumped me in the spare bedroom amidst the piles of stored junk that I later struggled with.
The amazing part of this, for me, was that I had not even the most vague recollection of any of what he told me. In fact, I was inclined not to believe him until I had it confirmed by the others at our little party. I had never had a blackout like that in my life, and I don't believe that I have ever had one since.
I managed to find my way across the meadow to the house I was living in, and went to bed. The next morning was, as you might expect, horrible. No amount of food, showers, coffee, aspirin or anything else helped me feel any better. But what was really scary was that I was still sick and hung over the second morning after the debacle. I started to think that I had permanently damaged myself. Naturally, I started feeling better after a few days, but I stayed away from alcohol for some time after that experience.
I got started on this story one evening as I was sitting at the computer with a delicious draft beer ( there's a keg of Shiner Bock in the kegerator) and about a half an ounce of really good tequila in a little balloon glass that I would normally use for single malt scotch. I was reflecting on how much my opinion of tequila has changed over the past few years.
I think the first "good" tequila I tasted was some Patron silver. Then the Patron anejo. From there I went on to try Cazadores, Tezon, Corralejo, Don Julio and others. These were completely unlike anything I had tried before. No salt and lime here, wouldn't want to spoil the taste. Wow, tequila that doesn't taste like gasoline. I still can't drink too much of it, an ounce or so is my limit, but that can last me for hours.
Then, while I was in Fort Worth in August, I tried Don Julio 1942 in a bar down in the stockyard section of town. Like most anejo style tequila it is aged in oak barrels. The flavor and aroma are fantastic. When you put your nose in it, you would swear the glass had vanilla extract swishing around in it. Like wine and scotch, the oak aging adds complexity to the flavor that is just amazing.
And at $30.00 a shot it's unlikely that anyone is going to start keeping score on who has had the most.