Every Monday is a Mexican-American holiday for me because I celebrate Margarita Monday on a weekly basis. However, this past Monday, it was a Mexican-American holiday for everyone: Cinco de Mayo. Our gang has been excited for weeks about a fortuitous Cinco de Mayo Margarita Monday. We planned to drink margaritas like we've never drank them before -- and that's saying something. Alas, our favorite bartender informed us the week prior that the $2 drink special would not be in effect on May 5th because of the holiday, which immediately turned off most people. Who wants to pay $7 for a drink that usually costs $2?
Consequently, some regular members began to devise alternative plans: a pool party with margaritas. It sounded fun and I said I was game, but wasn't sure whether everyone would get on board with the rival evening. A small contingency of MM-ers felt we should continue supporting the establishment since they hook us up so often, plus, it was a holiday. I agreed with the arguments on both sides, but figured I would just go with the majority and head to the pool party.
Since the rival plans were sort of last minute and not concrete, it wasn't clear whether it was actually happening. Numerous MMers called and texted each other in an attempt to definitively make the plans; I refused to make the final call since, as I saw it, it wasn't mine to make. In the meantime, a thirsty and festive Michael Michael asked me to go to the usual Margarita Mondays. Because my plans were uncertain, I put em off initially, until ey talked me into just going until the plans were solid and then leave from there if necessary. It made sense, plus, if things worked out, I'd get to be at both events that night, which would be a great compromise.
I've never seen the restaurant so crowded. Gringos from far and wide came to celebrate Mexican culture (or just get drunk, I suppose) on a day our country designates it appropriate to do so; everyone was gorging on expensive margaritas as well as tacos. For the first hour, I continued to receive calls about the hypothetical Margarita Pool Bash, though I could rarely hear them over the sound of a loud, live mariachi band.
Because of drinks' price, I made sure to limit my margarita intake. Furthermore, I kept assuming that any given point, I would be leaving for wetter pastures at another margarita event. Although this other event never happened, most members still didn't come to full-priced Margarita Monday either. Nevertheless, a solid crew of Melissa, Spencer, Eric, Lisa, Lena, Greg, Michael Michael, and me still had a good time.
What we lacked in numbers, we made up for in rowdiness. There was shouting, cheers-ing, cigarette thievery, and biting. Yup, angry about who knows what, Lena bit Michael Michael's arm so hard, ey still had the mark the next day, though it was hardly eir worst injury. (Foreshadowing)
While most people were inside buying drinks, I made a brief trip to the restroom. As I came back, I discovered that only Lena and Eric were sitting at the table that had been entirely cleared of its contents, its former inhabitants all strewn in a mess on the floor. I asked why everything was dumped off the table, and the response was "It ain't a thing." Fortunately, it's true, it wasn't a major thing: because of the full house, for the first time ever the margaritas were served in disposable plastic cups, so the only real non-edible casualty was a shot glass, the pieces of which I buried in the soil of a potted plant in order to hide the evidence.
The real adventure occurred in the parking lot on our exit from Margarita Mondays. Out of nowhere, Michael Michael challenged me to a race to Boo Boo, eir car which has had more accidents than a toddler undergoing toilet training. Up for the challenge, I accepted, and after Lisa counted to three, off we were. Being less intoxicated, I had a better start and pulled off to an early lead. As we were close to the car, I felt Michael Michael closing in on me, so I decided to take a final running dive in my quest for victory. I reached out for the car and fell a couple of feet short, as well as fell horizontally to the ground, face-planting. Fortunately, I put my hands down a split second before my face hit, so my hands suffered the brunt of the collusion rather than my head. In retrospect, my stupid accident reminds me of the German kid who tries to jump into the pool far too early, the video of which I have posted previously.
Michael Michael wasn't as lucky as me to fall. Instead, ey charged head first at the car. Technically ey "won," a distinction I'm proud to award to em, but it's hard to feel like a winner when you charge full speed head first into the car. Since both accidents happened nearly simultaneously, I didn't quite see Michael Michael's collision as much as I heard it. Ey crumpled to the floor and wailed that ey was in pain and couldn't breath. It sounded horrible, it looked horrible, I knew it was bad. My hands were gross, bloodier than they've ever been, and my knee was busted up, too, but in this circumstance, I had to prioritize the injuries at hand (kind of like people must have to do after an earthquake) and ignore my own wounds to help a friend.
Michael Michael wasn't able to communicate well and what ey did was fairly nonsensical, so I was pretty certain ey suffered a concussion. Lisa, Lena, and I brought em home, drugged em up, and dressed Michael's wounds -- eir knee was a bloody mess and ey could not move eir back without wincing like mad. Once that was settled, Lisa assisted me with my hands which were also gross, as well as my knee. My nice work pants were torn and soaked in blood and I was obviously upset about that on top of everything else. It was my job to keep Michael Michael awake (a difficult task if you know em) because you're not supposed to let someone with a concussion sleep. Eventually, I went to bed and got maybe two hours of sleep before I awoke to the sound of Amber puking (unrelated to margaritas as ey didn't have any) and took care of eir until it was time for work where I showed up with embarrassingly bandaged hands. I was candid about the incident, minus the drinking aspect, which the kids found, rightfully, comical. A few wanted to see it in the flesh, so I unwrapped it and gave them a peek, and they found it gross. It wasn't until today practically that the wounds fully scabbed over and I could grip things without feeling a sting. Damn race did a real number on me.
Not as much of a number as on Michael Michael, however. Ey remembers hitting Boo Boo with eir head, but nothing after that. Michael's back is still screwed up, leaving em to barely hobble to get around, so ey is using a cane to maneuver a little better. Fortunately, the doctor says that there was no spinal damage, only severe muscle tension, so ey'll just have to wait out the pain until it feels better.
It was the most dangerous Margarita Monday ever. And to think I was this close to not even going.
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