A Figment of my Tipsy Imagination

Before mom freaks out, I haven't been tipsy lately, I'm just using that as a good title.

Wanna know something funny? I have a hallucination. A hallucination that is only brought about by drinking some sort of randomly fruity margarita. Let me explain.

Some of you may remember my previous blog about my trip to Vegas, during which we met a really fun waiter who served us Pineapple Vanilla Margaritas? Well, I'm trying to decide if he's real or not. here's why. In a completely out-of-character act, Elizabeth and I gave him our phone number while we were in his restaurant in the Venetian, just in case he wanted to meet up with us later or later that weekend. Never thought he'd actually call. Well, he does, and we don't see him again, but we strike up this hour-long, weehourofthemorning conversation that seems as if it might lead to a fun cross-country friendship.

We get home, and Elizabeth and I laugh about the funny situation. We expect to not hear from him again, of course, so are pleasantly surprised when he calls one Saturday night about a week later while the two of us are at our favorite local Mexican place, El Azteca. Here's the funny thing... he asks, "So what's going on?" and I look around and, being completely honest even though it's kinda funny, I say, "Well, we're drinking margaritas!" He says, "Um, is that all you do? You were doing that when I met you guys!" hahahah. So we laugh about it, and we say that it's not just any normal margarita, but a randomly fruity one (that night, it was peach), that brings our fun Vegas friend about. We hadn't had a margarita since our night in Vegas, so it really seemed to fit. That was about a month ago.

So fast forward to last night. I've been at the Y-Club conference all weekend, and Elizabeth calls wanting to meet up for a movie, which we do, and we then head over to the Mexican place next to the Amstar Cinema called (fittingly) Margaritas. I order a peach margarita on a whim (was still a bit strung out by the crazy YMCA cheers I had been faced with all weekend), and -- seriously -- I laughingly say to Elizabeth after the waitress leaves, "Hey, I've got a margarita, maybe Vegas will call!" She cracks up. I hadn't had a margarita since the night a month earlier when he called us, and, of course, he hadn't called since then, either. We didn't really expect him to. We had both written him off as a fun Vegas story.

I went to bed earlier than usual and turned off my cell. Woke up this morning and had a voicemail from ... you guessed it ... Las Vegas! I was absolutely cracking up. How weird is that?!? And he actually says, "I hope you're out doing something fun, like drinking margaritas." I'm beginning to think I'm drinking more than I think I'm drinking, or else there's some chemical produced by mixing Tequila with a fruit that, when ingested, produces the illusion of my cell phone ringing and connecting with a cute California-accented voice on the other end of the line. And of course, the hallucination in Vegas was much bigger and more realistic (in the form of a Freddie Prinze, Jr. lookalike waiter) because everything in Vegas is much bigger and more realistic.

So the only thing left to wonder is ... why aren't I drinking fruity margaritas more often?