The Institute of Liberal Libations headed to Yelm the other night to watch the Mariners. Within seconds of our arrival at Puerto Vallarta Cantina, a young blonde woman attempted to ply us with alcohol. Obviously, as members of the Institute we don’t need any encouragement to drink.

She and her cute friends were hawking the Horny Buffalo, a half-carafe of Yukon Jack, Tanqueray, Peppermint Schnapps, and orange and pineapple juice with a Crown floater that’s used in many major hospitals as a powerful emetic.

Another pair of cuties suggested PV’s inappropriate Winter Homemade Hot Buttered Rum.  I reminded them that it was in the \'60s.

“How about the four of you lather up and go toe to toe,” I said, “and whoever wins the fight, I’ll drink that for the rest of the night.” This suggestion was met with a roar of alcoholic approval from our table and from a group of guys nearby; it also earned a lot of dirty looks from people who obviously considered me a psychopath. So I swiftly ordered a Corona and engaged the big screen and their Taco Bar.  My advice to the Puerto Vallarta brain trust: If you want me to drink one of your specialty drinks off your massive list, you need to attract customers who are willing to go the extra mile.

As we left PV in Yelm, I offered a helpful hint to one of the young blondes wobbling above three empty Horny Buffaloes: Hang your foot over the edge of the bed and reorient yourself to the earth’s rotation.   Trust me. I was pre-dent.  



[Puerto Vallarta Cantina, 802 Yelm Ave., Yelm, 360.458.7710]