Don't all hangover stories start with something yada something, "but it wasn't my fault"? As hollow as it may sound here, I feel the need to doubly express that my condition on a recent Sunday morning was not my fault.
I had innocently bellied up to the bar at Pier 247, the new casual seafood shack in Oak Cliff, and quickly made friends with two young guys that had just ordered their first-ever tray of crawfish. I showed them how to decapitate the critters, suck the fluids from their heads and squeeze the meat from their tails like toothpaste. They thanked me with a round of beers, and then with a few tequila shots, and then because this seemed like a wise thing to do at the time, a shooter of Red Bull and vodka. Who was I to turn their generosity down?More »