Farmer File

Never drink alcohol while setting off backyard fireworks. That’s a pretty good policy for a safe and sane Independence Day.

Another wise saying for this holiday period and all our days and nights as well might be, “Never forget what you said a long time ago: ‘I’ll never have another of that (fill in name of your bête noire beverage) ever again.’”

If you’ve ever used alcohol, I’ ll bet there is a drink you’ ll never have again. Or nondrinkers may have a veggie you hate (eggplant, kale, whatever) or an old TV show (“My Mother the Car,” “Jersey Shore,” etc.) you’ll never watch again, or a much-hated song reminiscent of a teenaged crush gone bad. The principle is the same.

Having revealed my wife’s and my never-again drinks in last week’s column, here are more, culled from wincing acquaintances and frowning friends. Old hangovers, it seems, die hard. I’ve changed the names. The comments are paraphrases.

Gilligan: I left a note in my wife’s car, asking her to meet meforaMaiTaiafterworkata Trader Vic’s. They have great Mai Tais there. I got there first, had one, then a second. She was late. Had another, then another, thinking she’d show up in a Mai Tai minute.

One drink later I phoned home. Oops. She had not seen the Trader Vic’s part, just the Mai Tai part. She was sorry and I was wasted. Haven’t had a you-know-what since.

Laverne: The drink was a Black Russian, in a bar near the beach.

Make that Black Russians, plural, with oyster sliders, only chewing, not sliding. I staggered outside and lay down in a row of bushes. Fell sound asleep and it took my friends a while to find me. Now I feel faint at the thought of Black Rus- sians. I blame the oysters.

Blaming the oysters, so to speak, was a common reaction from people averse to one type of drink. We tend to blame the non-alcoholic features of a cocktail for the hangover symptoms that followed — the aching of the teeth, the hurting of the hair when touched, especially curly locks, the beach ball size of the head, you know.

Shirley: My drink I’ll never do again is Long Island Iced Tea. It was a hot day and the drink was cool, sweet and delicious. I thought it was iced tea with a shot of vodka and coke. After three or four I wasn’t thinking, period. She didn’t know L.I.I.T combined the vodka and coke with equal or higher amounts of rum, tequila, gin and triple sec, plus sour mix. Shirley suggests the smack down was from the triple sec, not the quadruple hard stuff.

The Zombie was the never-again drink of Zack. He lost the battle of the Z’s one night, no surprise to anyone who knows the ingredients of a Zombie. It’s a drink that lives forever in the minds (and maybe the livers) of those who succumb to its evils: a handy four-pack of rums, white, dark, golden and one that’s 151-proof. Also sugar and three fruit juices, lime, papaya and pineapple.

What Zach remembers most of that night was that the bartender set fire to his drink. The next morning Zach felt like someone had set fire to him.

I welcome your story of the no-no drink in your life. No names, I promise.

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