There Is No Enlightenment At The Bottom of A Patron Bottle

You all know how this goes. You’ve had a hard week. You stepped on a pop top and blew out your flip flop, work was a pain, the boss was a jerk, one of the kids got in trouble at school, and your next door neighbor’s dog keeps wanting to fence fight your new puppy. You most definitely need a drink after all that, so you hit happy hour on Friday after work, or get home and whip up a double batch of margaritas to ease the stress.

That will do it, right? Those margaritas, or shots of tequila will make everything better. And as you sip down margarita one, two and three, you keep thinking the next, even slightest taste of tequila will transport you off unto a remote mountain top where you can become one with the wonderfully melodic sounds of a sitar while you bathe in the fragrance of your favorite patchouli and lemon grass incense. And then, surely then, you will have insight into all the world’s problems and everything will be better.

And Saturday morning rolls around with the dog licking your face because he needs to be walked, and you have a hangover and really want to stay in bed. Sadly, your empty margarita glass and freshly opened bottle of Patron did not bring the enlightenment you were hoping for.

It never does.

I feel good when I go to the liquor store and buy a new bottle of tequila. And chatting with whoever is minding the store is usually a bit more entertaining than talking with the cashiers on the grocery side of Publix. Maybe you have noticed that it’s an entirely different vibe talking with the liquor store clerk. The reason it feels like you’re talking with your local bartender in that situation is because many who work in liquor stores used to be bartenders. It makes a lot more sense for liquor stores to hire former bartenders instead of just the 21 year old kid down the street who orders Fireball shots and Jack and Coke and their local hot spot.

So, I’m already on a bit of a high when I leave the liquor store with my newly acquired bottle of Patron. I’ve had a good convo with the clerk, and I can’t wait to get my bottle home and cut through the plastic, peel that shiny green label off, pop the cork, and start mixing my evening elixir.

And as the evening drinking routine starts, I’m thinking surely this time I will have it all figured out and achieve some kind of understanding of the cosmic meaning of all this chaos we’re supposed to live through. I secretly know nothing will change, but just like buying Mega Millions lottery tickets, I keep hoping that one in 300 million chance chance of winning the big one, just like reaching enlightenment, will one day shine favorably on me, and maybe these two or three margs will do the trick.

And once again, they don’t.

No matter how many times I go through this, there is no enlightenment at the bottom of a Patron bottle, or a bottle of Crown Black, or Grey Goose, or Johnnie Walker Blue Label, or Brugal 1888 rum.

Even that beautiful $2,500 bottle of Patrón X won’t bring enlightenment, because it’s really just the same basic liquid wearing nice makeup and a sexy dress.