polacks and toga party

i used to go back up north every summer while i was in college. the bars didn't card, and since i had gone to high school with 95% of the bartenders...or their kids...or grandkids... i hardly ever even got charged for drinks. my best girlfriends would stay behind daddy's bar long enough to dole out enough body shots of rumplemintz to get a bridal party of strippers fucked up...and homemade watermelon shots if jane's alcoholic mother stumbled down from their house behind the bar and deemed us too drunk for straight liquor.

of course, then there was always the beer bong in the back by the jukebox, where country music and classic rock played on heavy rotation.

one weekend my cousin from "the city" came to visit, so i decided to give him a little taste of drinking like a northern girl. we started the night out at my house, with a few stiff margs. my mom made for us, since my dad was out of town and she liked to get a little "crazy". i had a liver of steel at this point, and the alcohol tolerance of our 60 year old alcoholic grandfather because i had spent that summer doing shots of whisky after my double shifts waiting tables at 2 of the most popular pubs and sports bars in town.

so, naturally, i drove my cousin's car the 1/3 of a mile down the road to the bar i had essentially frequented since i was in the 8th grade. it was still relatively early for a friday night, so daniel and i cozied up to the end of the bar and i introduced him to C.A. and jane, daughter and future daughter-in-law of bar owner, and oldest barfly in town...