So exactly two weeks and one day has passed since I vowed to never drink tequila again. Why? Well, Carmen, McGoo and a few others can explain how I looked Wednesday, January 11, 2006. Horrible. Like crap! "Absolut Terrible!"
But they didn't know how I felt. I felt like premium-grade doo doo! I tried my best to maintain that day. I was a class act. Really, I was... Not!
Goodness, what was I thinking when I consumed a six-ounce shot of Herradurra (after having a few drinks of mandarin tonic and scotch)? It had been some time since I felt so horrible. Actually, that day was the worst I ever felt from drinking.
So that was my first night in Times Square. My thoughts? I love the Whiskey Bar at the W Hotel. Very mellow, and a great place to spill your guts. But I never, ever, want to smell tequila again, seriously! I do not care how snazzy the place is.
I thank Carmen and McGoo for babysitting me, and escorting me to a restaurant in New York's Time Square for a well-done burger (without cheese) and lots and lots of iced tea with plenty of sugar. It helped tremendously.
But that day a couple weeks ago ended well. I had my first slice of New York-style pizza at Penn Station! That was damn tasty! After the slice of pizza, I was ready to take on the world. Well, at least I was ready to ride the train from Penn Station to Ronkonkoma in Long Island.
At any rate, I can't believe I had the shot of Patron tonight. I point the finger at peer pressure from work buddies! (That's my story. I'm sticking to it.)
It's not as if I'm still 25-years-old, and going to The Cafe for what The Guyyys and I called "Tequila Thursday." Sloppy times. Very sloppy times.
Next week I travel again to New York. I look forward to it... I'm excited.