From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (80 Hours)
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre
Subject: Re: my mission
Date: 16 Oct 92 05:44:57 GMT
Organization: IFA

[...Drinkin' stories omitted...]

I woke up (this is another tequila story) in my driveway in Pasadena, 
Los Angeles.  The funny part is I that I passed out about seven hours
earlier at a hacienda just outside of Mexicali, Mexico.  This is the
closest I've ever come to having a "Castanedan experience."

I had been down in Mexicali with my football team (the mighty Caltech 
Beavers!!!).  The owners of the vanquished Mexicali team threw us a full 
blown fiesta, and the locals were definitely determined to out-party us
and win back a measure of pride.  I can remember holding up the American 
side, standing proudly in the front ranks with a bunch of crazed pepper-
eaters, cerveza pounders and tequila guzzlers (this is back in the days
when I used to win chugging contests).  As the night advanced and the 
American ranks thinned, I started earning some real respect for my prowess 
("for a gringo", that is).  Then the serious drinking began...

After we had emptied all the bottles of Cuervo, Herradura and Sauza, the
owner of the house went inside and brought out the homemade stuff.  My 
friends...the word "smooth" does not even begin to adequately describe this 
ambrosia, this nectar, this manna from Hell.  Stored in opaque plastic
milk jugs, the tequila was colorless and nearly tasteless, with just the
faintest whiff of the scent of cactus and desert flower.  Yummmm.....

Before we even began drinking it, my innards were sloshing around with
an unstable mash of burritos, peppers, beer and fine tequila.  I already
had to pee, fart and vomit, and I was oozing flammable volatile haze from
my very pores.  But somehow I dug deep and leapt into this new challenge
with gusto.  I can still here their cries: "Viva la GRINGO!!!...Aye Carramba
...Ondole Ondole!...Epa Epa Epa!...El Diablo!!!  All I could see were spin-
ning lights and the sweaty grinning faces of those few remaining frenzied 
hard-core swarthy Mexican madmen.  I suddenly remembered the Alamo, and 
Sancho Panza's reign of terror.  And then, my assemblage point shifted 
radically and I began to perceive all those around me for what they truly 
were:  luminous cocoons of energy!  I could *see* how the Eagle's emanations 
were linked with the matching energy fibers inside those cocoons, and how 
they were held in place by the unfathomable force of intent.

At this point, I felt a hand on my shoulder, and a soft friendly voice
spoke in my ear, warning me in a polite accent that I had maybe had too
much tequila.  That maybe I should slow down a bit.  I nodded, and ret-
reated from the central table, from my new friends who I would never see 
again.  Helping hands guided me to a waiting car and bundled me into the 
back seat...

Apparently, I stood and answered an elaborate series of questions at the 
border checkpoint.

Rigler
--
You worry and worry and its like a pack of rats gnawing their way up your 
spinal column until they reach the soft tissues of your brain and suddenly 
you have no mind left.  Then it dawns on you that you truly have nothing 
left to lose and you are free to face the future with joyful abandon...