The Danger That Is A Pisco Sour

Funny how I try my first Pisco Sour this week; the same week that I booked the tickets to South America. What did I learn? That I need to limit my intake of these if I want to remember what Machu Picchu looks like. Went to celebrate a couple of birthday’s at La Mar in the Embarcadero on Tuesday night. They have a great happy hour, and let me tell you, their food is amazing. Empanadas that made love to my mouth.

Then later that night, in my drunken stupor, I stumbled onto a door on Market Street. As my body hit the door, it opened, I feel through and the door locked behind me. I had no idea what had just happened. I was on the floor in some alleyway with Matt and Marcus on the other side asking if I was OK. I got up, and could not find a door knob. I had turned around and decided to walk down the dark hallway to see where I would end up. Turns out I found a light switch and saw that the door had the knob at the BOTTOM of the door. Who does that?!

Anyway, I got home and noticed that my arm was all bruised and bleeding.

Fuck Pisco Sours.

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