GwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwDGwD Drunk in Mexico, Part 1 by Zippy My folks have a place at Amistad Acres outside of Del Rio, Texas, near Lake Amistad Reservoir, which in turn lies half in Texas, and half in Mexico. For years now, this has been a place of refuge and fun for members of my family, friends, and myself. Fishing, eating, watching Satellite TV, reading, and drinking copious amounts of alcohol usually dominate the time spent down there for those lucky enough to have made the trip. There is, however, another activity that we males occasionally engage in that is not nearly as safe as the aforementioned activities. This 'other' activity involves a short journey across the Border, and into the infamous Mexican town of Acunia. Excitement awaits those willing to take this journey, as well as a myriad of temptations that, while seeming like tremendous fun at the time, will usually leave the unsuspecting with a pounding head, and reddened eyes the next morning. Hell, even if you DO know what to expect, chances are you will spend the next morning wishing you were never born, or at least had enough courage to know when to stop with the consumption of all the liquors you put in your body the previous evening. Great fun, indeed. Oh, the pleasures for the senses are great! You may decide to take a meal at one of the fancy restaurants, or you may just decide to go bar-hopping. And, for just one dollar, you can have your choice of many of the fine Mexican Beers available down there- Corona, Tecate, XX, Bohemia, and Superior. Of course, the tequila flows as freely as the Mississippi as well, and Mexican Bar-tenders tend not to skimp on the dosage of this deadly libation. Why, just one Margarita would be enough to make an ordinary person walk crooked. But the Devil in the Bottle for me is a mind-numbing concoction called El Presidente Brandy. It's cheap, it's sweet, and makes the tongue long for more. It also is The Great Evil Giver of Hang-Overs and the Maker of You Doing Stupid Things. It makes toothless hags appear as Helen of Troy; it makes you Rich and Powerful; it even makes you speak Spanish FLUENTLY. Never mind the fact that you won't remember ANY of that the next day! Of course, none of this matters while you are involved in all this revelry. From the first-person perspective, it's all just huge amounts of fun. It never even occurs to you that you are writing the epitaph for multitudes of brain-calls that will magically disappear as your liver attempts to deal with the oncoming flood of Cheap Booze. And, the Mexican Locals are so HELPFUL. They usher you into the various bars and Hole-in-the-Walls with shouts of "Bienvenidos!" which literally means, "Welcome!" in Espanol. The Bar-tenders and waiters are ALWAYS more than willing to come to your aid should you find yourself nearing the bottom of a drink. Locals are always more than happy to come up to you and indulge you in their broken English greetings, with offers of free drinks and cigarettes. The fun continues on and on and on and on and on, because the bars don't shut down until around four in the morning, or everyone has passed out or gone home. Once you have had enough of all this revelry and fun, it's time to stagger out to a waiting cab, and ride back across the bridge so that you can drive yourself home, with barely the faintest thought of the Hell you will feel in the morning. And, feel like hell, you most certainly will, but if you are lucky enough to not get the bed-spins, you will glide off to sleep with the same lips that you used to suck down all the poison curled into a pleasant, albeit DRUNKEN, smile. -+=END=+-