Talk about a bender

No, not me.

This morning, my husband and I ran a few errands and then decided to stop for a light lunch. We forgot that it was Sunday brunch, looked at the line, and decided that, rather than wait 45 minutes for a table, we'd just eat in the bar.

Now, I'm not opposed to an "eye-opener" on Sunday, as evidenced by my morning enjoyment of tasty margarita with my bowl of tortilla soup. I've been a bartender and I've hung out with musicians, so I've known a bunch of people who could hold quite a bit of liquor. But, I don't remember ever seeing anything like the spectacles this Sunday morning would hold.

First off, there was a bachelorette party. A bachelorette party at brunch in a Mexican restaurant on Sunday morning. Sure, there's free champagne* at brunch. And their waiter was fetching things like a huge bowl of whipped cream and cherries; not unusual bachelorette fare. But, dude, 11am in the damn morning? Lame.

And then we hit the other end of the spectrum, also colliding with Lame. About 15 minutes after we sat down, a couple in their late 40s came in sporting the 80s rocker fresh out of jail look. In 45 minutes, they had three rounds. Of double-tall vodkas. And a few shots. At 11am, Sunday morning. We're talking probabaly 8 ounces of vodka plus shots each. In 45 minutes. Damn, that's not hardcore. That's just, well, lame.

*Champagne in this case means Wycliff Twist and Pop. Yes, there is a carbonated wine-like beverage by that name. I didn't even know they made champagne with a Stelvin closure (aka a screwtop). EEEUUUWWW! Hence, the margarita. Herradura Silver. Freshly squoze juice. Very tasty.