My Dad to me: "I think you may be the only person who walks into a funeral and leaves with a free tequila shot...on a Sunday.”
So, the other day the boys and I attended a funeral with my parents. The funeral was in a backroom at a bar (pretty on brand for my family). I ended up taking the boys to the regular part of the bar to play cards and pass the time while my parents spent time socializing with people they don't get to see on a regular basis without distractions.
As we are walking past the bar there is a group of rowdy people. One of the already half-in-the-bag guys announced to his group of friends, “Let’s do tequila shots!” And something inside of me connected with this man because deep down I am this man. I am usually the friend making bad shot choices. I am always the one trying to convince my friends to do shots. Even when my body is telling me no. My heart is always screaming yes. And I’m one to follow my heart.
Any who, as a reflux when I’m walking by this guy suggesting doing tequila shots with his friends, I jokingly chimed in as I’m very hung over from a wedding the previous night, “Count me in!” and then Ryder who is two steps behind me, hungover from a weekend of fun with his cousins, adds, “Me too!” as he throws his fist in the air in celebration, like a true frat boy.
The whole group of people start laughing at the fact that my 6-year-old just threw himself into the headcount for tequila shots.
My boys and I find a table and sit down and enjoy some pop and play a few rounds of cards. The gentleman came over to our table and joked with the boys about a couple of things, chatted about the wedding I attended the night before, and then returned to his friends to continue his goodtime. At one point I had to get up and run to the car to get a charger so our boys’ 3rd parent didn’t die (And by 3rd parent I obviously mean the iPad) and as I pass the gentleman and his friends, he says to me, “By the time you get back I’ll have a tequila shot ready for us. You need a little hair of the dog.”
And I’m not one to pass up a good time.
And he did have a tequila shot waiting for me when I returned. I took a tequila shot like a champ while this gentleman with his friends, the entire bar, including Ryder, cheered us on in the background. So I did end the funeral with a free shot of tequila which actually did help my hangover. I felt slightly less run over by a buss after that.
I’m not sure I feel great about this but I think my 6-year-old was my “shot wingman.”
And now I feel like a mediocre mom but a really great frat girl.
*****
Also, after that story which should be simply innocent and poking fun at the fact that the party girl in me will never die, even with two kids in tow at a funeral, on a Sunday, I do want to share what this experience is like behind the scenes for a girl even if the intensions of every party are pure. If college taught me one thing, other than how to survive with crippling debt, it’s how to navigate seemingly innocent situations with caution.
I am well aware of my appearance at the bar-I have to be. I know that I am a petite female with the lung capacity of a 2-year-old. I can beat no one, I repeat no one, in a race (which is why my kids want to play athletic games with me and not Cory- It's a sure win for them.) I had my hair in a ponytail, which I usually do not do when going to a bar for safety reasons because it is easier for my long, blonde hair to be pulled, bringing my entire body to the ground which could result in me being quickly overpowered, when it is all gathered together in a ponytail. I know, I know, stupid facts a woman has to know and constantly be aware of. But I always try to write as honestly about my life as possible and today is no exception.
I know that I am always down for a good time but I also realize that in that situation I was vulnerable. By all outward appearances I looked like a fragile female, who was in an unknown environment accepting a shot, poured in my absence, from a stranger.
What the story doesn’t share is that as I walked out to the car, I found my Mom, pulled her aside and she graciously, without question, watched from a distance while the tequila shot was poured by the bar tender and sat there on the counter until I quickly returned, making sure that the drink was never out of her sight and gave me a discrete thumbs up when I returned indicating that the drink was safe.
As it turns out this interaction was innocent. The gentleman had no ill intentions other than to have a good time, as did I. But I am a female and this is real life.
I also know that I could have turned the tequila shot down due to safety reasons and had the room next to me not been filled with my family (that this gentleman didn’t know about), I would have declined. But being a female shouldn’t always get to stop me from silly, fun experiences. If the situation was reversed and a girl was buying a shot for a guy, he would have taken it no question- so I did too.
In the end, as it turns out, Ryder was not really my shot wingman, my Mom was my shot wingwoman. And that is what women secretly do for each other behind the scenes.
A picture of Cory and I from the wedding the night before.
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