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Two Tales of One City

a duble shot of tequila


On one of my trips to visit Michael in Philadelphia when we were still living apart he discovered that I had never had Tequila and decided that needed to be rectified.

As were ordering our food he also asked for a double shot of Tequila. Now just to be clear I had not eaten much that day and I was fairly hungry, oh and I had just drunk a glass of Blue Moon beer. The Tequila arrived along with all the bits and pieces that go with it and while we waited for the food to follow suit he coached me in the correct way to consume the stuff. I did my best to knock it back but a double shot was a bit much for me and I only managed about 2/3rds of it. He finished off the rest. As our food arrived he asked for a repeat of the Tequila and before I knew it that arrived too and was swiftly dispatched. Again, over half to me and the remainder to him, by now I had consumed the best part of 3 shots on a fairly empty stomach.

We ate our dinner, it was very good and I was very happy as it came with a big portion of vegetables, something I had found lacking in American restaurants. We sat and chatted for a while and then I paid for the dinner as Michael had left his wallet at the hotel. The restaurant was above a bar and there was a rather steep wrought iron spiral stair case to navigate on the way out which in heels was a bit tricky but I made it just fine. Then we were out onto the street in the warm sultry summer’s night. We walked a short way to a shop and I waited outside while Michael went in and bought cigarettes then we walked back through the city to our hotel. When we got there we took the lift up to our room and once the door closed behind us I removed my clothes in an alluring manner and laid down on the bed. I may have possibly taken a nap at this point.


Well as I often tell her “It’s your story, tell it anyway you want.”

Her version of the story is accurate, up to a point. That point would be where we were heading down the stairs. While they were steep, and they were high heels, the alcohol had a greater impact on her than she realised. So I practically had to carry her down the stairs. Once we got there I knew that there was no way she was going to be able to manage the long walk back to the hotel. Not to mention that it had started to rain. So I flagged down a passing cab and helped her inside .

Now it wasn’t far by cab,but he wasn’t familiar with how to get to our hotel. It was in a weird location practically in the middle of I95 but I knew just how to direct him. We arrived at the hotel and the fare only came to five dollars, so I paid our driver who made quite an impression with his red turban and impressive beard. I helped Molly out of the car and half carried her to the elevator. Once inside the elevator Molly attempted to undo my fly, this is not an example of drunken behavior, she vastly enjoys trying to get to my cock out anytime we are alone, and sometimes even when we are not.

Once we got to the room she was well and truly gone. So I put her on the bed and removed her clothes for her while she mumbled incoherently. I lay on the bed beside her and clicked through the pay per view porn making silly comments about the titles and descriptions. Eventually I noticed that she was fast asleep.  A rather different (and sober) version of the evening’s events isn’t it?

I have learned that she has a tell for when she is drunk. Her nose gets itchy. Useful information don’t you think?


I am not claiming I was not drunk because I definitely was but I fairly certain I was not drunk enough to forget a red turban wearing taxi driver. We have told this story to people many times and to this day I maintain that taxi ride never happened and that is my story and I am sticking to it.



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