Revenge of the Texas Swirl

I love margaritas, always have. And there are certain people that margaritas go well with (take that any way you want). I decided a while back that it would be fun to expand my horizons and work my way through different kinds of margaritas. So far, the raspberry is my favorite, with peach coming in at a close second. I didn’t care for mango, loved the blackberry, and don’t really remember the pomegranate (I’m getting ahead of myself–stay with me here). Of course, I’m always up for the traditional, and I even have a recipe for a diet margarita that I had planned to try this past week. It sounded really good, especially for something that included the word “diet” in the title. But I didn’t quite get there. The reason why has to do with the Texas Swirl.

Sounds cool, doesn’t it? I actually came close to trying the Texas Swirl several months ago. I was diverted (that happens to me a lot) by something called a “Pain Killer.” What attracted me to the Pain Killer was partially the toasted coconut that they rimmed it with and partially the fact that the restaurant I ordered it from actually had a LIMIT to the number you could order. I had never had a drink that had limit to the number you could order, so I decided to give it a shot. It was really good…kind of a pineapple/coconut thing, without the pina colada sweet factor. And the toasted coconut was pretty awesome.

Anyway, I finally got back to the Texas Swirl, which, for those who aren’t margarita aficionados, is a mixture of a traditional lime with sangria. Sounds great. At this restaurant, it’s served in this little skinny glass that makes it look like you are getting about a thimble full and topped off with a straw that still has the paper on it, except it’s curled around the straw in a little ribbon. Cute. Harmless. So I thought.

I realized I had a problem when I began to order my second round. I only drink every once in a while, but I can usually handle two without swaying when I get up as long as they don’t taste like lighter fluid (an indication that there is more tequila in there than I am capable of handling) and I saw no reason why this should be any different. When I finished the Texas Swirl, I decided to switch to the pomegranate. But when the waiter started asking me questions about my second margarita, I began to realize that I didn’t understand a word he was saying (it turned out he was trying to explain to me that the pomegranate margarita was a $12 drink. Had it not been for the Texas Swirl, I think that particular revelation would have convinced me that no pomegranate that wasn’t gold plated could possibly be that good). I nodded, said okay, thinking that whatever he had to say about my choice required nothing more than me agreeing with him, and turned back to my dinner companion, a girl friend I have (fortunately) known for years.

It was then that it first hit me I was no longer sober. The second margarita arrived, this one contained in a glass that was roughly the size of my head. I think it was pretty good, although I don’t remember much about the second one. I do vaguely remember my friend demonstrating to me that the first glass was bigger, which she did by dumping the entire contents of my second glass into the first one–it took it with room to spare. So I immediately switched to iced tea. We sat at the restaurant for four hours while I sobered up (that’s what girl friends are for. Thanks Anita!). And then I went home.

I live by myself, fortunately, because if there had been someone here for the rest of the story, they would have laughed themselves silly. I know I would have if it hadn’t been me. I slept like a baby until 2am. Then I started dreaming that I had a nasty headache. And then I woke up to discover that I really did have a headache, with a nice stomach ache to boot. I decided that the best thing would be to hydrate myself…at least that seemed like a good idea until I actually stood up. Wow. The hangover that followed was too much for a forty-one-year-old lightweight like me. I have been hung over exactly three times in my life (four, now). I’m a huge baby. I can’t stand to be sick. Especially on a work night. Fortunately for me, the girls at work have a sense of humor.

Needless to say, when it came time for the diet margaritas the next night (yes, I did say I only drink every once in a while–this was just poor planning on my part), I wasn’t woman enough to face them. Another friend was coming over to join me, and she was very understanding when I requested that we stick to diet sodas. Again, that’s what girlfriends are for. I’m blessed to have so many.