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Hi
Jinks in South Mumbai
Ever tried dragging someone twice as heavy as you (who is also unconscious,
by the way) from Colaba to N.Point after having 15 shots of tequila?
It sure is good fun. Wonder about the perspective of the thunderstruck
Taj waiters, though. The morning after (there's always one), there
was this collective amnesia about what the hell we were doing at
Taj, anyway. All we remember is screaming at the Lobby Manager.
The guy playing "dead body" in the night had to go and buy fresh
undies next morning. That's how close we came to dying that night.
The tequila was at Three Flights Up, there were 6 of us, it was
diwali'99. The waiter even graciously played wicket-keeper for sometime
while we were trying to throw the lemon into the glass. TFU was
open from 1:00 to 2:30 only for us. In case I have not mentioned
it before, there was madness in the air, with a mini fight with
the bouncer thrown in. You guys might not believe the quantity (93
shots on the bill). We did not do so next morning, we still don't
till date. But how can you argue with a bill of 12K?
The
Chills
My story starts very differently than what I would normally experience.
You see, Its because though I like to down a couple of bravebulls
or the spirit in it's raw form itself, frankly speaking, I much
prefer to perform the final destruction on others. My best personal
experience with tequila would be the time when I tried the SHIVER
SHOT (this is done with another person where he/she gets the shiver
because you are actually licking the other person's neck where the
salt is also sprinkled. I get the shot and hang on; it's not yet
over because the ultimate shiver comes when you take the lemon wedge
from his/her mouth, which was there all through the thrilling experience.
After that, you bet the story doesn't end there unlike this one,
why? simple, the shots go on till either you or the floor is swaying.
Ciao.
Texan
Fantasy
A
couple of months ago had watched a documentary on E! (thats an entertainment
channel here in the US) where they were having a celebration down
in Texas. One of the fun competitions out there was a tequila contest
with a twist. A shot of tequila was poured down a girl's navel (obviously
she was in a horizontal position by then). The circumference of
the navel was covered with salt and a trail of lime juice would
lead to her mouth. The guy had to drink the tequila from her navel,
lick the salt and the lime clean off her (bodily fluids might have
made the salt unnecessary but who am i to change tradition) Whoever
could do it the fastest was the declared winner. But to look at
some of the women who were substituting for drinking receptacles
i guess every guy out there was a winner. Same held for the girls
too. They got to have their tequila from male receptacles. Complexity
depended on the depth of the navel.
Now,
where do I figure in all this ? Well, when I got my ticket booked
for a weekend in Texas I was looking forward to similar fun & games.
I reached the airport 4 hours before scheduled take off. Not because
I was erring on the side of caution but because I could bum a ride
that would ordinarily have cost me about $70 (about 6 and 1/2 tulleeho
reviews) Since I had 4 hours to kill, I thought I should prepare
myself for the tequila fiesta in Texas. But it ultimately ended
up in a situation similar to 1 Tequila, 2 tequila, 3 tequila Floor
There was this Mexican joint at the airport and as I also had to
have some dinner I decided to head here. Now Mexican food is very
similar to Indian cooking, in that its hot and spicy and sprinkled
with generous amounts of Rajma too. So I decided to start with a
cocktail called Mexican Dream, which is, basically tequila, brandy
and Lemon juice. Then I had an appetiser of Chili, which is a spicy
appetiser of mince and rajma beans, along with the appetiser I had
a Copa De Oro, which is a tequila cocktail with Grand Marnier and
egg yolk (which I did not know off till it was too late). Then with
my main course I had a mexican screwdriver, which is a regular screwdriver
with tequila instead of the vodka. To top it off I had another cocktail
with tequila and blue curacao and some other ingredients, which
I didn't even, register. (completely natural given the amount of
tequila I had already imbibed) This is like an after dinner liqueur
but for me a rum drinker (no hair on my chest believe me!!!) this
was the finishing flamboyant touch.
I
was in a pleasant haze and decided to use the wash room and rinse
my mouth so the air hostess wouldn't think she had a troublesome
alcoholic indian bitch to deal with. Now the effects began to appear,
I was half inside the washroom at chicago Midway airport with all
my baggage when I realised I was in the men's and not the women's
room. I fortunately managed to turn around before too many people
(actually men) saw me. I quickly walked into the women's room and
had enough presence of mind to turn my reversible jacket around
so they wouldn't recognise me even if we were on the same flight.
Now I don't know if this error was because of the tequila or because
of some subliminal thought in my subconscious. Anyway this episode
did not seem to cause any ill effects or any hard feelings. I washed
up, freshened up and boarded my flight (for the curious.... yes
it was the right flight!!!)
Now
with all the spicy mexican food and four tequila cocktails and the
raw eggyolk, my tummy had as many ingredients as a scooby sandwich.
I felt everything was fine until the pilot decided that the aircraft
needed to get its wheels off the ground and whirled us away into
some stormy turbulence. The structure I was in was flying, my head
was swimming, my heart was jumping, eyes & tongue rolling, stomach
churning, blood pulsing. It was almost like being in a mixer blender
myself. Fortunately the 2 seats next to me were unoccupied.(No!!
it wasn't because of me !!! the flight was running at not even 20%
capacity) so I managed to keep my body and head at an almost 180degree
angle although I couldn't leave my seatbelt on in this position.
The air hostess must have guessed that I was in a less hazardous
position this way so fortunately she didn't insist that I keep my
seatbelt on inspite of the turbulence. Finally we landed, with the
contents ingested at Midway airport still inside me even at the
San Antonio airport. I also realised that it wasn't just the tequila
that was making me feel all sick but that we had hit a really bad
storm on its fringes and everyone else on the flight was in a similar
queasy state. The reason why the air hostess didn't bother me about
the seat belt was because she was firmly strapped to her own seat
and wasn't willing to budge from there for any reason other than
to jump out of the emergency hatch. anyway the gist of the matter
is that i survived and its only water for me 24 hours before and
on any flight. A waste when u consider the wonderful array of drinks
on international flights but maybe I will stick to Indian stereotype
and just pocket them for complimentaries to the next best story
on tulleeho.
Death
Valley Blues
One
Hot Afternoon in Death Valley It was Old One-Eye, Pedro Santiago,
who started it. "Twelve caballitos, senores," he said, in his gravelly
baritone, lovingly spinning the chamber of his loaded, pearl-handled
revolver, "never stopping and never flinching. Five minutes later,
a walk along the top of this wall" - he indicated a fifteen-foot
high wall, its whiteness a brilliant gash against the dark green
hillside, its top easily gained by a rickety wooden ladder that
stood in readiness against it. It was wide enough, and that only
just, to hold a man's foot. "If you fall, well, Santa Maria protect
you - it is not a small height, that. If you are even less of a
man, a worm," - he grinned, showing crooked teeth, stained nicotine-yellow,
under the thatch of black moustache that obscured his too-pink upper
lip, at his hapless captives - "and cannot last the dozen, then,
we will play a round of - what you call it, senores? - ah, yes,
Russian Roulette."
Carefully, he slid a solitary bullet out of the chamber and rolled
it on his callused palm. It glinted dully, evilly, in the afternoon
sun. "But supposing, just supposing, you do not fall, then, there
is a prize, and, " he smacked his lips lasciviously, "Madre de Dios,
what a prize it is, what a worthy prize." "Peco!" Santiago spat
suddenly, "Bring the girl!" A skinny youth appeared, pushing a girl
roughly ahead of him. The moment I laid eyes on her, I knew I had
to have her. Her dark doe-eyes were huge in the heart-shaped face,
the pupils dilated in terror. The black silky hair was in disarray,
wet tendrils of it curling against the olive skin of the neck. The
bodice of the peasant dress she wore was ripped - my god, what had
the monster done to her - revealing the swell of a virgin bosom
that sent my pulse racing. I caught a glimpse of a well-rounded
calf as she tripped and fell, and had to keep my thighs pressed
tightly together to keep my emotions from spilling over. I wanted
this woman. Win her I would, and make a respectable woman of her;
she would be the mother of my children.
Thirty
minutes later, it was as good as finished. Ramaswamy and Chopra
lay dead, dark blood oozing out of their temples, only to be sucked
up thirstily by the desert sand. Manjrekar and Nair hadn't been
so lucky - they lay screaming in agony on either side of the wall,
limbs splayed at angles that the lord had never intended. Now it
was my turn. I looked at the girl. She fastened her dark eyes on
mine. They were full of a nameless longing. She reached into the
folds of her dress and withdrew a mantilla of black lace. I caught
it deftly, and wound it around my upper arm. I would ride into battle
with my heart on my sleeve. I was ready. The first six caballitos
were easy. But by the time I reached my eighth, my head was swimming,
my throat was on fire, and Santiago was getting blurry at the edges.
I felt for my touchstone, the mantilla. Drawing inspiration from
it, I pressed on. Ninth, tenth. The girl was next to me now, her
hand on my thigh. "Senor," she whispered throatily, "you have to
do it. For me."
After that, the eleventh and twelfth disappeared down my throat
in a flash. She wanted me - did anything else matter? "Jaana," I
said, as I stood up to ascend the wall, "yeh kaam tumhare naam."
"Senor," was all she would whisper in return, "small steps, quick
steps." A rush of vertigo caught me unawares at the top of the wall.
But I had a duty to the girl. I composed myself, and took the first
few steps slowly. Then I remembered her words. Quickly, I ran, with
small mincing steps, hands clasped behind my back in the best flamenco
tradition, dancing across the top of the wall. "Ole!" cheered the
love of my life, "ole!" It was over. I had reached the end of the
wall. I looked in triumph towards Santiago. The bastard was standing
there, grinning with a rare malevolence. His pistol was cocked,
and pointing directly at me. "Did you really think, my foolish senor,
that I was going to give this" - he pointed to the girl - "away
to you, to anyone? Although I must say you put on a fine performance.
Gracias, senor, and adios." After that, everything happened very
quickly. Even as Santiago pressed the trigger, there was a loud
scream. As I watched, not really comprehending what was happening
- the dozen caballitos had seen to that - Santiago, his good eye
arching heavenwards, pitched forward, a kitchen knife in his back.
The bullet whistled harmlessly past my ear. I looked gratefully
at my saviour, raising my arm in fond salute. She waved back, blew
me a kiss, and then, lifting her skirts, ran into the waiting arms
of the skinny youth who had escorted her out of the shack. Through
a tequila-induced fog, I watched them unhitch Santiago's bay mare,
scramble onto her back, and gallop off into a beautiful sunset.
I sighed and sat down. Getting off the wall, I decided sadly, could
wait.
Fiat
Siena
Warning: This is a real-life story and I would request that no one
attempt it.
This is the story of how the Fiat Siena actually got totaled. While
in Delhi one evening I tried a unique and a potent combination of
Tequila, Vodka and Beer. I kind of liked the taste and the feeling.
I came out on my two feet and this fostered the impression that
I was Tequila-proof. My faith in my ability to consume large quantities
of Tequila without any visible effect was heightened by further
dosages in my fav watering hole- Totos in Bandra.
Two
months ago one night a pal of mine and I were sitting in the same
place and putting 'em away. One of the TV channels was playing Terminator
and the sexy morphing technology made profound impact on what passed
for my mind. If the cyborg could go through solid objects so could
I screamed my inner being. I got up and passed through the crowd
around the bar. The feeling of power increased. Welcome, Memon the
modern day cyborg…the one being capable of saving humanity from
constricted environments. I got into my brand new Fiat Siena and
off we went.
Smoke
wraiths arose in front of me,but the cyborg and his larger persona
the car passed theu them effortlessly. Far ahead in front of us
loomed a wall. It seemed out of place and cyborg knew that he could
get to the Western Express Highway isn5 minutes instead of 20 minutes.
The man machine hurtled at the wall determined to break the world
record of getting from Pali Naka to Mahim causeway. Sounds of metal
being tortured and tremendous upheavals brought caused the cyborg
to once again become a 14-hr a day investment banker desperately
trying to come up with an excuse that would wash with the insurance
types.
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