In our own way, we were honoring our founding fathers. Instead of griping about taxes and self-governance by throwing away tea, we were throwing back tequila to protest the intolerable limitations and discrimination by our government toward those under the legal drinking age…
We had a full house full of underage guests in town for the Fourth of July.
Lil’Rhody was still sleeping on the living room floor and feeling patriotically philanthropic, we invited him to join us at National Mall to see the fireworks.
Callie suggested we go to Taco Shore, which made no sense because Capitol Hill was an extra Metro stop between G.W. and the monuments. It also was a legitimate restaurant that didn’t look like it would cater to our underage procurement problems.
The Tex-Mex neighborhood restaurant sits on a busy corner on the Hill. It is festively painted, lined with red plastic booths, and stocked with an endless supply of crappy tequilas meant for co-eds who didn’t know the difference, and more than willing to pay Añejo prices.
We decided to risk the now familiar humiliation that comes when rule-abiding restaurants ask to see ID. Let me add, Callie’s younger sister who was visiting was barely in high school. We looked young. We should have been carded.
Perhaps the waiter was legally blind or had a thing for H.S girls, but he served us several pitchers of the infamous red, white and blue margaritas. We were in heaven.
Then again, underage liquor always tastes better.
We made it several hours later to the National Mall: late, crass, and miserably hot from the Metro. Any inhibitions drunk away, we invaded the carefully selected plots of the families picnicking the time away.
Then there was the sudden realization I was about to burst. You can’t sit for six hours after drinking your weight in margaritas without needing to excuse yourself, and right that minute.
Unfortunately, we positioned ourselves as far inland as you could go and had no idea where the nearest toilet was.
Yes, public urination is a crime, but so was destroying 92,000 pounds of British tea.
God Bless America!