My friend Drunk George reminded me about this Puerto Rican wedding I bartended on the top floor of Terrace On The Park (Corona, Queens) in 1994. This wild fella in a gray suit came up to my mobile bar and introduced himself as if we had been long lost friends for some time (I’ve observed over the years that there is a particular type of guy that will treat me as if I was the same bartender serving them at some other bar the night before: continuing stories from the middle, expecting me to know their drink, etc). “Get me a glass of olive oil”. I was confused. He gave me a $5 bill, which was a big tip at that place and told me to just get it for him. I went into the kitchen and asked one of the Mexican cooks for the oil. He gave it to me, no questions asked. But the cook did make the drink motion to his mouth with his hand and said, “whicky!”. When I came back, he was taking off his jacket and I noticed that his sleeves were already rolled up. Trouble. I served the oil to my guest and he drank it all in one go. “You know why I drink this buddy… If you drink a glass of olive oil before, you can drink all you want and not get sick”. He ordered a double shot of Bacardi and then gave me a handshake with $20 in it. Another double shot, another $20. Fifteen minutes later, he’s groping women on the dance floor and knocking over glasses. He was the first guy I ever saw bounced from a party. Now I don’t know if drinking olive oil before downing shots will keep you from getting sick, nor do I know that if you squeeze lemons into your armpits, it will cure your hangover. But I do know that if you put back double shots of Bacardi, you will go fucking insane and you will be escorted out of the function you’re attending. Also, catering halls suck!