I quit drinking tequila years ago. Why? Well, there is a point in every evening involving tequila reposado when you stop drinking tequila and tequila starts drinking you. I have apparently found that point more than once. Reposado is particularly dangerous because it tastes so civilized. It has been aged in oak, it is smooth, it has a lovely golden color, and it gives the impression that you are drinking something sophisticated rather than making a series of increasingly questionable decisions in a glass. One minute I am sitting there thinking, “This is really quite good,” and the next minute I am having a serious conversation with a houseplant about why I have neglected it.
The first warning sign is usually confidence. I suddenly become convinced that I am hilarious, charming, and capable of explaining complicated subjects that I barely understand. Somewhere around the next glass, I may decide that cooking dinner is an excellent idea, despite the fact that operating a can opener has become an engineering challenge. Eventually, gravity becomes noticeably more aggressive, the furniture seems to have moved slightly, and my ability to remember where I put my phone becomes a matter for forensic investigation.
The following morning is when reposado presents the bill. My mouth feels as though it has been used to store gravel, my head has developed its own weather system, and I begin making solemn promises to myself about moderation, hydration, and better judgment. These promises generally sound very convincing at nine in the morning. By late afternoon, however, I am perfectly capable of remembering how pleasant that first glass of reposado tasted. This is how the cycle continues: tequila, optimism, poor judgment, regret, and eventually another completely unnecessary lesson in personal responsibility.
The real problem with drinking too much tequila reposado is that the evening rarely ends where you think it will. It begins with “I’ll just have one,” progresses through “Well, maybe another,” and somehow concludes with me wondering why I thought tequila was a reasonable substitute for good decision-making. Reposado may be smooth, mellow, and beautifully aged, but apparently it has been aged long enough to become very patient. It simply waits until I have had enough before quietly taking over the evening and reminding me, once again, that I am not nearly as sophisticated as I thought I was.