L.A. Waters

If you’re following this blog then you probably know the short version of my trip to L.A. What you don’t know is what I discovered while I was there and how drunk I got during this overnight stay in the city of angels… 2 words: L.A. Water. Now, I know what you’re thinking. “what the hell is that”? I’ll post the recipie. If you have ever been to LA then you know the jokes about the water there. If not, make one of these at home and you’ll see why they’re called what they are. During our hour drive up to LA, we decided to bring our co-pilot, Captain Morgan. Not just any Captain though, this was different. It was a pre-mixed long island version. Consisting of rum, gin, vodka and whiskey. That’s right, whiskey. No tequila. Anyway, the three of us pass this gallon concoction around like its a goddamn bag of Oreos in jail. We finish it just in time to hit sunset, then Hollywood. Empty stomach style. We hit the Roosevelt hotel on Hollywood Blvd, grab a beer because our stomachs aren’t liking the idea of hard liquor anymore. Chill for a few then head on out to another spot. This bar offers $1 shots. We don’t care what it is but we order 20 (there’s only 4 of us). Pound those down and now its time for us to hit a night club, because when you’re in Hollywood, you just have too. We get there, I speak with the bartender about running a tab and off to the races we go. I step outside to have a quick smoke because I’m the only smoker in the group (rad) and this is the point where all the shots and liquor start joining forces to combine the “operation central nervous system freedom”. As I’m smoking a cigarette, I decide that I don’t want it anyway. I head back in, find my friends and a greenish-blue drink waiting for me. I taste it, its fucking delicious. I ask “what the fuck is this”? “oh, that’s an LA water”. I down it not knowing the potency, order another, then another… Then one more for good measure. I actually ended up giving this one away to one of our group members because I was on the verge of falling over. I take myself to the men’s room, compose myself, and move on with my evening. At some point when I went back for my friends, they weren’t where I left them. (or I was too intoxicated to actually be able to find them. I blamed them anyway) I get lost in the clum and manage to find myaelf walking Hollywood Blvd… Alone… Where there are more addicts and weirdos than I’ve ever seen in one place at one time. I try to re enter the club and they want me to pay another $20. Fuck that, its quater after one and I don’t need another drink. I continue walking until my phone rings and its my friends wondering where I went. I’m completely lost at this point and I don’t know how to find them, so I just keep walking in the “right” direction. I find them. That’s where the rest of my story ends up. Down in my other post you can read about it. Here’s the recipe.

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