It all started innocent enough. A simple little Luau with grass skirts, tacky Hawaiian shirts and fancy drinks in coconuts. We all had so much fun that the following year we decided to try a Fiesta, then a western theme, then a pirate party, then a circus party (I skipped out on this one after my brother in law, done up in full clown garb, jumped out of the bathroom at me. I wish I had been the one in the bathroom.. Cleanup would have been a lot easier...) then a horror party, finally coming to this year where we went full on Hollywood. For those of you keeping track, you might be sitting at 7 years. Well, you would be wrong. I wish you were right, but unfortunately, you would be wrong.
You see, we had so much fun at the first Fiesta, that we decided to give it another go. We still had the costumes (yes I said costumes. When I said dress up, I didn't mean in our Sunday best. I meant costumes) and who doesn't enjoy some home made Chipotle style food? On top of that, I had recently been introduced to my new friend Patron, so this was shaping up to be a very good party. Little did I know, my sister in law, Chris had brought HER friend Jose Cuervo. I don't know if anyone else knew this, but Jose and Patron have a long standing rivalry with each other. You put the two of them in the same room together and things get very ugly, very quickly.
I went into this party with every intention of proving that Patron was by far the superior tequila. We started off with a friendly group shot. You know what Im talking about. Everybody lines up for that first shot, assuming that by taking the one shot they will not be considered a "pansy" and they can respectably back away from the bar with little or no grief. We started with the Patron. Dan was intent on showing everybody how great this stuff was and I had no problem being the guinea pig. After shot #1, Chris pulls her buddy Jose out. We decided to do an old school Coke/Pepsi style taste off.
Honestly, thats where things got fuzzy.
I vaguely remember telling one of my brother in laws that I loved them just like a real brother and then getting very "huggy" with him. This is the same brother in law who won't read my blog now because he says it's "Too much information". Hmpf.
I have a very foggy memory of sitting in front of a bowl of cilantro lime rice and eating a bite because somebody told me I needed to.
Then I clearly remember waking up in my bed, in a t-shirt, next to a bucket that reeked of something that wasn't supposed to be in my bedroom.
Over the years the story has been repeated so many times at family gatherings, that I feel like I saw it happen myself. Like one of those out of body experiences people have when they almost die.
I guess after we finished the bottle of Patron, we decided it was only fair to finish the bottle of Cuervo. I say "we" very loosely. The group that had started strong at around 15 had dwindled down to 3 of us. Me and my sister in laws, Belinda and Chris.
Normally at these parties, there are games played. In all the versions of the story I heard, nobody has ever mentioned a single game. I am pretty sure that the entertainment was the 3 of us, belly up at the bar, with me barking instructions on how to properly shoot your tequila. As if it mattered at this point. The pictures I have seen show wasted lime wedges strewn about, a salt shaker on it's side, my nephew drinking from a mexican candle and people in the background, pretty much staring in awe. Had you removed the bar scene, you could have easily replaced it with a train wreck or horrible car accident. That's what they were seeing.
The party started at about 2pm. At approximately 5pm, Linda had dissapeared and Chris was helping me stumble down to the house where I proceeded to retch wherever I felt like it.
I have to give Chris props. While my husband dry heaved every time I hurled, Chris was there, redirecting the bucket to catch my wild throws of vomit, hold my hair back and even change me out of my cute mexican dress. While Chris and I have had our not so loving moments, I do look back on this particular moment with some fondness. No matter how old and snarly and bitchy we get, I will always be able to tell her that she held my hair while I puked. Just like a good sister would. :)
Meanwhile, at the other end of the hall, the guy I said was like my brother, was stepping in the barf that his wife left for him on the floor by the bed. Unfortunately, when Belinda sneaked off, she wasn't given the same sister treatment I got, and Greg was left to clean up the mess. I would feel bad, but that's what she gets for sneaking off. At least my dramatic exit got me some cleanup in aisle three.
I haven't heard much more. I am sure that I said some horribly inappropriate things. I KNOW that I humiliated my husband and probably my son. Yeah- my kid was there. Super example. I know that my mother in law spent a good deal of time washing the vomit out of my dress. I also know that nobody has suggested the Fiesta again since then.
So while you are enjoying your barbecues and neighborhood gatherings, be reminded that somewhere, I'm desperately praying that somebody else in the family will pull a "Heather" and get completely annihilated. I thought I was close when a clown tried to Superman down the driveway a couple years ago, but it wasn't enough. That story still runs a distant second to when Heather forced Belinda to get so drunk they both puked all over everything.
I'm optimistic though. At this very moment, my husband is wearing a wig in his baseball uniform and getting drunk with a bunch of newly 21 year olds. My fingers are crossed that this might be my year.
