Mike’s brother, Gary, sits at a bar with his wife, Heather. He’s feeling pretty good. Undeterred by his already progressing state of intoxication, he decides to order one of his favorite drinks – the “Bull Fighter” – a mixture of tequila and Red Bull energy drink.
I’ll give you a moment to swallow the gag reflex. Red Bull is just about the most disgusting thing I’ve ever drank. Drinked. Drunken. Whatever — it is horrific. Never mind that for me “it gives you wings” translates to “it makes you jitter like a meth addict and gives you a splitting headache.” It tastes like someone melted screaming, writhing gummy bears with acid and then added a cup of sugar to the whole mess. They say you can taste an animal’s anxiety in its meat. Red Bull tastes like Gummy Bear Fear.
To top it off, Tequila is one of the few standard alcoholic drinks that I don’t like. Too many margaritas in college and I’m pretty much over it for life. Just smelling tequila instantly transports me back to waking up on my dorm floor with my cheek stuck to the tile. Play a Jimmy Buffett tune, and I smell Triple Sec and feel a little ill. (though if it from his later albums, the illness might not be from the tequila.)
So anyway, back to the story. Gary asks the bartender for a Bull Fighter.
“We don’t have Red Bull,” says the barkeep. “We do have Jager?” she adds, thinking that if he just likes gross shots, that Jagermeister would be an acceptable substitute. Jagermeister and Red Bull is known as a “Jagerbomb” and is a popular drink for young people looking to go from “responsible citizen” to “arrested in a bar fight” in as little time as possible.
Jagermeister, in case you didn’t know, supposedly tastes like black licorice, but really tastes like melted black crayons and burning rubber. In Germany, it is often humorously called Leberkleister (“liver glue”). The humor plays upon the fact that Leberkleister is an exact rhyme with Jägermeister. And the fact that it tastes like liver glue.
This tenuous leap from the drink that Gary wanted to a different shot drink didn’t clear the broadening empty gap between Gary’s ears. In his already muddled mind, what she was suggesting was SUBSTITUTING the Red Bull with Jager. So Gary says:
“Ok, I’ll take a tequila and Jager.”
A few people at the bar hear this and turned to Gary, mouths agape, horrified.
“Tequila and Jager?” the bartender asks in shock and awe.
But now it is too late. People are starting to whisper. Men are starting to laugh. Women break into hysterical sobs. Gary sees this and can’t back down. He is past the point of no return. He will have tequila and Jager, and he will drink it with a smile on his face.
“Yes,” says Gary. “In a big glass.”
Heads shaking from one end of the bar to the other, the bartender makes Gary the most vile cocktail ever ordered, in a big glass.
People misspeak themselves all the time. I myself have ordered a Mount Gay and Rum on more than one occasion, when I really wanted a Mount Gay and coke, but had already finished one or two Mount Gay and cokes. Only Gary would consider it a point of pride to actually demand in big glass what he had only accidentally ordered in the first place.
Gary got his drink. All eyes turned to him. And without missing a beat, he sucked it down like mother’s milk. The watchers gasped. Gary hid the grimace as best he could and squelched the gag reflex. About 10 minutes later, he was unable to talk in coherent sentences.
Gary says it was disgusting, and really, that gives me hope for him. After all, if you throw tequila and Jager down your gullet and your tummy shrugs and says “no biggie, just another day at the office” you’ve got some problems.