Shot

I have had a sheltered life, according to the Amercans in the bar last night, and could not be suffered to go another hour without trying something called a "shot". Now, I am not interested in any drink that isn't at least meant to be savoured, and I don't really drink spirits much either. However, not to seem rude, and allowing the maxim that one should try everything once, I drank a shot. If anyone is interested, it was a shot of something called Liquid Cocaine, which consisted of a mixture of Goldschlaf (spelling?) and Jaegermeister and it was thoroughly delicious. All warm and toasty and spicy, like sweets.
So on first meeting the Shot and I appeared to be getting along famously. Warmed by this success, I decided to extend the acquaintance, and had another. Another three, in fact. Rather in the manner of proposing marriage on a first date, I fear that this unguarded zeal has done for any chance of a beautiful friendship, since I knew not whereof I meddled, and found that my new friend had a rather complex and dangerous personality lurking under the seductive and harmless exterior. The descent into drunkenness was as precipitous and shocking as a cliff edge. Never again.
In general, I find social drinking here quite difficult because I don't like beer very much, and it's pretty much all you can get. The spirits are ruinously expensive. Decent wine, even decent local wine, can be got, but the wine in pubs tends to be the worst kind of home-grown gutrot that makes one wonder why Onatrio produces wine at all, unless it is to increase their sales of beer. Thus abandoned by my faithful friends, is it any wonder I get into trouble through casual entanglements with glamorous strangers? Though glamorous wouldn't be the word for how I felt when I woke up this morning. Nor for how I looked by the end of last night.