Here we are,
May 5th, 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.
