Continued from Mexico City Day 3 Part 2.
After getting back to the hotel, I was only able to get a little bit of blogging done before it was time to get going again. I am already tired now, I wonder if I’ll have the energy level to do hardcore drinking. We shall see.
We are heading towards a bar in the Roma neighborhood. Meeting time is at 8pm and it’s about 6:30 right now. I am trying to get to Roma early so I can grab a bite to eat before everyone else shows up. By the way, when I got into this taxi, the meter wasn’t turned on. I told the driver to turn on the meter, he acted dumb like he didn’t understand. I actually left the taxi, got a hotel porter and came back with the porter to ask the driver to turn on the meter. Only then did the driver turn the meter on. I’ve learned my lesson.
I asked to see if they have an English menu. Nope. Well, how about a beer first then and I’ll try to figure out this menu.
My beer shows up, except, two of them shows up and I only ordered one. The waiter tried to explain something to me, and I do not understand a word. He goes around the restaurant asking if anyone spoke English. Nope. No one who works here speaks English, which I found odd. Everyone who went swing dancing the other night spoke fluent conversational English. Many people I meet around the city also speaks some English, but apparently this restaurant is the exception.
I looked at the menu, and I order what I think is a steak. The waiter asks me something else, but again I don’t understand. After a minute of both of us making mutually incomprehensible sounds to each other, I smiled at him and gave him the thumbs up indicating that he can just decide the answer to the question he asked.
After a while, the waiter had the bright idea of using Google Translate. Here’s him and his buddy both working hard translating. The beer was a two for one special. Then when I ordered my steak, he had asked me how I wanted my steak done(Google couldn’t translate this one well).
My waiter had picked Punto Medio for me, which is middle. I cut into the steak and it’s one of the rarest steaks that I’ve ever had in my life. From that standpoint, I guess it didn’t matter whether I had understood his question earlier on how I like my steak done. The meat was super rare, but whatever, I’ll eat it.
Beer number 3 while I wait. They have wifi here, so I used my phone to send some messages to RT letting him know to find me at the bar. Well, 30 minutes goes by and no one else shows up. Hmmm, I hope I am in the right place. This whole not having a working phone sucks.
As I am pondering where everyone is at, I hear someone call out my name. I turn around and I see RT!! It’s been a while since I’ve seen him now that he’s going to grad school in Boston.
RT in the middle with his two childhood friends F and M flanking him. They’ve been friends for over twenty years. I’ve got friends like that, and those are the best friends. Those are the kind of friends that you’ll never be able to acquire again in your life time. Friends just because nothing else really mattered other than being friends to each other. Friends just because it was fun to play together. Friends just because you did misdeeds together. Speaking of which, my twenty years plus friend JM will be arriving tomorrow. Mexico City by itself is already kick ass, but to enjoy it with friends, old and new, it is precious and beautiful.
This is a top notch bar that can make all sorts of fancy cocktails. Our waiter asks me what I would like, I said something with Vodka in it. This is what he suggested, the fruitest of all fruity drinks. What is he trying to imply…
As we kept on drinking, more and more of RT’s friends show up. They are mostly childhood friends. Everyone speaks fluent English. Well, F spoke English when he was sober, but his command of the language deteriorated rather quickly, after maybe two drinks. It’s a running joke amongst the group that F’s English isn’t great. F had hit(they said “attack”) on an English speaking girl before, and when the girl responded back that she’s married, F responded with “Hello, I am F.” because he didn’t understand what she was saying. LOL!
Other than fluent English, everyone here is much lighter skinned than almost everyone else I’ve seen on the street. Not to mention, they are also taller than all the other Mexicans I’ve seen. These are the highly educated Mexicans from the upper echelon of society. They look like Spaniards and they speak Spanish like they are singing. They are all a little cocky and super confident. A group of great guys to party with for sure.
At some point in the night, F told me that him and me will drink 12 shots each. He said that he’ll be my manager, and that if I wanted to stop at any point, he would throw in the towel for me…Errr…what! I can’t do 12 shots, how about 5? At that point, we started working on our goal of 5 shots. This is on top of all the other drinks that we’ve been having all night.
Since we were sitting outside, occasionally there would be peddlers of different products who would come by our table. A guy shows up selling fun party costume accessories.
Now I am really drunk and doing some major time traveling. Then out of no where, I realize that there is a man standing next to me. I look over at him and I see all the Mexicans talking to him in Spanish. What’s going on?
Then I notice the contraption that this man is holding, two metal handle ends attached to wires. I may be drunk, I may have never seen this device before, but I knew immediate what it is. It’s a machine that electrocutes you. Now the Mexicans are talking to me like they want me to hold onto one end of it. I know what the Mexicans are saying to me, because they are speaking English, what I don’t understand is why I want to hold something that will shock the piss out of me.
In my drunken state, I gave in to peer pressure and held one end of the torture device in my hand. Then the Mexicans told me to hold hands with the person sitting next to me with my other hand. Soon, we were all linking hands and this is how this game, Torques Torques(shock shock), is played. The voltage gets cranked up slowly, and whoever wussies out and loosens their grip first, the two who broke the current has to both take a shot.
I am happy to announce that I was not one to loosen my grip so I didn’t have to take an extra shot. Again, why are we torturing ourselves like this and why are we having so much fun laughing about it? Kids, don’t drink and get drunk, because this is what happens. A stupid idiotic idea all of a sudden becomes the funniest and best idea. Thinking back about it right now, it was so much fun! Just look at the photo and all the smiles on our faces as we were getting shocked! Hahaha!
RT really wanted to see me get tortured on my own. The voltage was cranked up so high I was almost unable to loosen my grip because my forearm muscles were contracting my hands shut. I will say, this is a great picture.
The valet pulls up C’s car, it’s an A3, just like mine! Shit! Someone had stolen his side mirrors(just the mirrors, not the housing). That sucks and seems like an odd thing to steal. C had to call his insurance to report the theft.
The rumor mill is saying that we might go to another bar. We may go to a dance club. We may go to a strip club. RT has to wake up early the next morning, I believe to meet with his priest to go over wedding logistics, so he’s pushing back very hard about continuing this party. It’s roughly 1am right now.
Give me a vodka soda to nurse please and keep the shots away from me.
Then you breath in air through your two fingers that you’ve dipped into the shot, like smoking a cigarette. That was interesting. As you breath in through your fingers, you are breathing in the aroma of the drink that’s still on your fingers. But seriously guys, no more fucking shots.
Sigh, here goes #8. You take the shot, blow out the flames and then suck on the lime. This one was really good. The fire cooked limes tasted great. I am going to bring this one with me back to Austin!
It’s one thing to party in another country with your friends. It’s another thing to be partying in another country with your friends, who are also locals. This is a very rare opportunity and I am so thankful that I’ve got friends from different parts of the world that can open a window for me to peek into their world. Nothing beats partying with the locals, especially hard partying locals!
I gave the driver a map of the hotel so he knows where to take me. Of course, the meter isn’t turned on. I just want to go home, so I just said that I’ll give him $150 pesos to take me home. That’s about twice the price of what I paid earlier by meter, but I just really want to go to bed and not argue about anything.
I get into the elevator, and immediately I start listing until I am leaning on the wall. I get into my room, undress and get into bed. The world is spinning, even though my eyes are closed. I think I am going to puke. “Shit!”, I remember saying out loud. Good thing the bathroom is close by. I get back into bed, and come to the conclusion that puking is not fun. I decide to keep my eyes open and focus on one spot in the ceiling to keep the world from furiously spinning. And I lose consciousness into deep sleep.
To be continued at Mexico City Day 4.