CINCO DE MAYO

         Here we are, May 5^th, Cinco de Mayo. I was seriously hoping a bunch of us could get together and patronize a Mexican restaurant to celebrate the end of shelter-in-place and our ability to once again eat out. Well, that’s not going to happen for any of us is it?

          If any of us do decide to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, it will be via take out or delivery and either alone or with our partners/family. For me, it will be alone. As I write this, I am seriously thinking about ordering either fajitas or cheese enchiladas for pick up. I don’t have any tequila, but that’s okay because I can either drink tequila or eat Mexican food, but the combination doesn’t agree with me at all. If I’m going to enjoy both of them, I have to indulge at separate times.

          At this point, I don’t know if I’ll order from Todo Mexico up the street or Azteca, but it would be one of the two since they are my favorites. Thinking about Mexican food made me remember something that happened a very long time ago. Another great memory.

          There used to be a Mexican restaurant on Aurora just west of Echo Lake. It was called Viva Mexico and John and I and the boys were frequent visitors there. They made the very best cheese enchiladas I’ve ever had. We went there one evening for dinner. At that point in time tequila and Mexican food went well together for me. I ordered a margarita and the waiter asked if I wanted the grande. Thus, began an evening which we laughed about for a long time.

          When my drink arrived, it was the size of a fishbowl. I’d never ordered a grande before, so had no idea about the size. Immediately, John and my wonderful sons began to caution me about drinking the whole thing, i.e.,

          “Mom, you’re not going to drink that whole thing are you?”

          “Please don’t drink the whole thing, Mom.”

          “Honey, you’re going to be so sorry if you drink all that alcohol.”

          To make matters even better, they didn’t use tiny voices and where we were sitting, we were surrounded by other diners. Those diners looked over at us and you could almost see them thinking, if not saying,

          “Such a nice-looking family. Too bad the mom’s a drunk. “

          “Oh, that poor family. The mom must have a drinking problem.”

          I’m sure you’ve gotten the idea by now. Well, I’ve never been a huge drinker, but John and the boys really annoyed the heck out of me, so I was determined to down the entire fishbowl, and maybe even lick the bottom. So, I did.

          Whoa, was I drunk or what? I was barely able to get up and walk out of that restaurant. Back home, I went to bed and went to sleep…okay, passed out.

          It was probably a couple of hours later. John had come to bed and AJ, was in the doorway, telling me Pam was on the phone.

          “Tell her I’ll call her back in the morning,” I mumbled.

          John shook me and said, “Paula, it’s Pam, she has to go to the hospital to have the baby.”

          Well, that did wake me up. I took the phone and told her I’d be right there. Pam and her husband Walt were friends, and I’d agreed to babysit Walt’s daughter if she was visiting the weekend they had to go to the hospital. I got up, got dressed and headed for their house in Kenmore.

          Kenmore isn’t all that far from Lake Forest Park, in fact, they are adjacent in some places. I was still very drunk. I rolled the windows down in my car and drove very very carefully through Lake Forest Park. My little city had a reputation for handing out traffic tickets. Ha, they wouldn’t have given me a ticket if they’d stopped me, they’d have hauled me off to the pokey with a DUI. I made it okay though and didn’t get stopped.

          At Pam’s, I went back to sleep…okay passed out again…on their couch after they left for the hospital. Their daughter was born that upcoming afternoon. I was stone cold sober by then, and didn’t even have a hangover. But I wonder if that fishbowl-sized margarita is why I can now not eat Mexican food and drink tequila together.

          Instead of tequila, once I’ve picked up my dinner, I’ll raise my tot of gin and wish you all a very happy Cinco de Mayo…and hope that 2021 will allow us to exchange that greeting face-to-face. And, if we can, maybe I’ll throw caution to the wind and order another fishbowl…as long as I’m not the designated driver.