A Short Visit to Margaritaville

“Wasting away again in Margaritaville. Searching for my long lost shaker of salt…” Jimmy Buffet

Of all the injustices I’ve ever witnessed in my lifetime, I think the worst was the way I once saw a margarita treated. I ordered a frozen margarita. You know, just the usual lime variety. When the waitress brought it to me, I assumed, as any rational person would, that the substance surrounding the rim of the glass was salt.

When I put my lips to the glass, I was disgusted to find that they had put sugar on my glass. What kind of self-respecting alcoholic would drink such a thing? Salt is used traditionally for a reason. The salt cuts the lime and provides contrast to the thick sweetness of the drink. In layman’s terms: duh, it just tastes better.

The sugar thing just keeps coming back to haunt me. I just can’t seem to get my mind around it. I wake up in a cold sweat at night. I talk in my sleep. I repeat the same words over and over, “Why sugar of all things? Why?”

Ever since that fateful day, I use the word “salt” repeatedly when I order a margarita. I have a very real fear that the sugar incident might reoccur. Just a warning to my readers: when ordering, say “salt”, and say it like you mean it.

If the same thing has happened to you, please don’t deal with the pain alone. Let it out. Leave a comment for me. We’re all friends here.

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