I was at a lovely after-school play date the other day enjoying a margarita and some adult conversation. Now, I’ve read a few mommy-blogs bitching about playdates, but I can only assume these moms suck at playdates because MARGARITAS. Also, mimosas. Also, sangria. Relax, not all on the same playdate. I’m just saying – a playdate done right is actually a mom date. The kids play together. They leave the moms alone for an hour. How is that not a win-win? If you hate play dates, you might need better friends.

Well now I want a Margarita. Guess it’s taco night in the MILK household.

My love for the alcoholic’s slushee goes back to a childhood trip to Puerto Vallarta. One fine evening, my dad, step-mom and I stopped into a lovely little place called Daiquiri Dicks. Right on the water, you could look out and see schools of flying fish gliding across the blackening sea. And yes, that is the restaurant’s real name. It’s still there.

I don’t remember what we ate, but I remember ordering the most marvelous virgin daiquiri. Then another. They were twelve steps above the 7-11 Slurpees I was used too.

The flying fish were the most amazing thing I’d seen in my brief life. The food was amazing. The sunset was glorious.

At some point, a man I assumed was Daquiri Dick himself came over. He was a tall, lanky character with orange hair and a pale seersucker suit all  blue and white pinstripes. He reminded me of Willy Wonka, and I had a tough time not finding this hilarious. While he charmed my folks, the server stopped by with another virgin daiquiri.

Dick’s expression turned carefully neutral, like any man stepping into a precarious customer service situation.

“I’m sorry, but are you ordering Daquiris for the little girl?” he asked.

My step-mom laughed. “It’s okay, they’re virgin.”

Then passed a brief but intense conversation in Spanish with the server. My drink was unceremoniously removed.

“Hey, get yer own!” I snapped.

“We do not make virgin daiquiris,” he said.  “I’m afraid your server misunderstood.”

Virgin daiquiris roughly translates to daiquiris for the virgin, turns out.  I was hammered.

Plus side, dinner was free! With apologies!

Viva Mexico!