One night, I rolled with David to some club/lounge thing to meet up with some work friends for a little night out on the town. David had just purchased the first of what would be many exceptional suits. I want to say it was a Hugo Boss black suit. In full David form, he clearly is the best-dressed guy. Everybody else is loosening their ties, and David is actually perfecting the knot and keeping everything buttoned up.
So we walk up to the bar, and it’s immediately shot, shot, shots time. David, not remembering that I have an immediate gag reflex to tequila, orders a round of Patrón Silver. Me, not thinking anything of the clear liquid in the shot glass, assumes it is a chilled vodka or something of that nature. I didn’t bother to sniff the glass and immediately took the shot.
As soon as the shot hits my mouth, I am like, “Uh oh,” but I try to get it down because there wasn’t really any other option. So I try to swallow it down. As David is collecting the glasses and returning them to the bar, my body decides that it is not going to tolerate tequila in the old tank, and right up it comes. Now this story is gross, but thank god I wasn’t drunk and hadn’t eaten anything major, so what comes up is just straight lightly-used tequila.
David’s back is to me, and right then and there, I basically puke on the back of his brand new suit. He doesn’t realize what happened, so I quickly snag a cocktail napkin and sort of palm it… I’m trying to secretly clean up the back of his suit doing the old, brotherly back-pat move. I am able to get it off without any mark. Like I said, it was more like a spilled drink than it was a pukey moment.
At this point, another wave of nausea hits me, and I am like, “I’ll be right back.” So I palm the cocktail napkin, hit the men’s room, and expel the leftover shot. I remember thinking this is the one time I could use a bathroom attendant for some mouthwash or gum or anything. But there wasn’t one.
So I walk back out and try to pretend to be normal. David is looking at me suspiciously when I ask him for a piece of gum. He’s like, “Did you just puke? I just realized I handed you tequila.” I played dumb and was like, “Just give me a piece of gum already.” He does. Then, all of a sudden, I saw the light go off in his eyes. “YOU DID JUST PUKE! …wait a minute, did you just puke on my back?” and the people who were with us start laughing. They saw but were trying to help me keep it on the hush-hush since there wasn’t a mark on his jacket. He pulls off his jacket and is looking at the back. And I am just laughing and chewing my gum and was like, “You shouldn’t have given tequila to me, bro.” All night long, he wore that jacket, and we had a blast. But he would take it off every 30 minutes and look to see if he could spot any evidence.
From that point on, we became Jameson shot drinkers. When the shot call came, he would yell out, “Anything but tequila for this guy right here! I don’t want him puking all over me again.” We must have told this story a hundred times since it happened.
