“Uno Mas Por Favor!”

“UNO MAS POR FAVOR, SENIORITA!” I beamed with pride at our waitress: 1) My Spanish was impeccable 2) Tequila was the supposed drink of this country and I wasn’t going to let my fellow natives down.

But I’m here to tell you do not believe the hype. I’ll never forget the night of our rehearsal dinner as all of our family and friends took turns celebrating us, praying for our marriage and sharing fun and embarrassing stories. One groomsman in particular took a deep breath and in front of God and everyone began his heartwarming speech:

“There’s a lot that goes through your mind when you’re bent over the toilet at 3 in the morning…”

3:00am is indeed the quintessential time of reckoning, and I’m about to keep it 100% real with everyone. It was me that requested the Tequila shots a total of three times. I felt emboldened because our room was merely steps away from the Tequila bar and heck we were on vacation. But it hit me like being thrown a medicine ball unexpectedly and then suddenly falling into a rushing river. Our chipper waitress returned yet again “UNO MAS!?!” My legs were no longer operating and the meringue (salsa?) music droned on and on. As my left eye began to blur, Regi came to the rescue and took me upstairs instead.

Precisely at 3:00 am – My head was heavy and I panicked. I felt like something was restricting my neck…almost like when you’re on a rollercoaster and the momentum that holds your head back after the steep drop. The difference is we all know the drop is coming and likely that sensation drew you to the ride in the first place. In the bedroom the only thing I had control over were my eyes as I scanned the room. “REGI! What happened! Where am I?! REGI!” I felt like I was yelling so loudly but in actuality I was speaking in wispy, sweet nothing jargon. He was in a comfortable, deep slumber and murmured something incomprehensible under his breath.



Scandal. Remember?

Olivia Pope wine girl.

I’m a Gladiator, damn it.

7: 08am – “I need medicine!!” I screamed out much louder than hours before. At this point the throbbing of my head began. Regi jumped out of bed and found a huge bottle of water and Excedrin. It’s begun. The hangover I’ve only heard about. “Please…please…pillows.” I had managed to crawl to the bathroom and the sensation of salt rushed in my mouth, my cue. I began to salivate and oddly enough I only vomited once.

9:32 am- “Honey, are you ok? Are you feeling better?” I looked up at him from my amateur pillow bed on the floor. He said, “You insisted. You wanted to sleep that way.” I looked around and my head was next to the toilet. I felt relief and smiled at my husband.

For better or for worst, eh? I never knew it would look like this. Love that man and now we both know I can’t handle Tequilia and something deep within me is comforted by that fact.

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