TT: Sigur Ros and Vomit do not mix

I was a late bloomer in many if not all part of my life. I was raised with some awesome people whose musical tastes were all I could hang on to, unbeknowst that I had free will to like my own music.

Last year, for the babe's birthday, I bought him a pair of tickets to go to SF Outside Lands, this awesome music festival located in Golden Gate Park San Francisco. We were excited to see the multiple bands, but more importantly, the fact that we would be seeing Sigur Ros, those beautiful Icelandic voices lulling is in to a dream like state. As the date approached, we realized that the Saturday of the festival was to be the same day as the Mexico vs. Brazil Olympic game, a match for the fucking gold. We had to watch regardless of where we were and what we were doing. I quickly called a bar that we had frequented before to make sure that a) the soccer match would be on their tvs at 630 in the morning, and b) they would be open to the public at 630 in the morning. The bar confirmed both.

We were headed to a bar on a Saturday morning to watch Mexico dominate the shit out of Brazil. Didn't matter to us that we, the Mexicans, were the under dogs, we were pumped and ready to kick some South American Ass. We arrived to a surprisingly busy bar. Everyone was in there already drinking, shouting. The far corner of the bar was decked in yellow, rooting for Brazil. We took a seat at the bar, ordered our breakfast, and tequila shots...yeah, that's right, tequila shots for breakfast.

As fate would decide, Mexico won Olympic Gold (VIVA FUCKING MEXICO). This only meant that my babe and I would continue the shit show and down the tequila. Shots were bought for the bar, the bar bought us shots. It was great...until I hate the wind outside.

We decided it was time to retreat, only that by the time I made it to the street, I was piss drunk...literally. We went outside and I passed out on some patch of San Francisco grass, and then pissed myself. No vomit, just piss. The poor babe, equally as shit faced, but no piss of his own, was left to his own to try and get us a cab back to our hotel, and who drives up...a fucking cop. Luckily for us, we were the tamest of San Francisco's shit show, so rather than cuff us, SFPD hailed a cab for us. As soon as I am in the cab, my German speaking skills kick in. Yeah that's right, German...A Mexican girl is speaking German to the Filipino cabbie...this of course made no sense making the drive to the hotel amusing for me, cumbersome for my babe, and annoying as fuck to the cab driver.
There is a point...
I pass out only to wake a few hours later realizing we have a Sigur Ros show to catch. I pull my shit together, shower, and make it out the door. But the fun didn't end there. As we are getting ready to park the car so that we can catch the shuttle to Golden Gate Park, I puke all over the front seat of my car. In some sick twist of fate, I did not puke on my clothes, but it was all over the fucking car. No time to clean, we get on the bus. And then I puke on the shuttle, on a cloth seat. No big deal, I put some paper towels, mutter some "uh someone puked back there" and get off the bus.
So we make it to Sigur Ros, and its beautiful, only I am STILL FUCKING VOMITING!!! And I am vomiting in a crowd, among the feet of these poor souls who will soon trample me if I don't stop vomiting. It was no matter, we were going to watch these Icelandic angel voices ...

We only lasted ten minutes...I was forced to retreat to greener or pastures, or at least to an area I could vomit without being stepped on...

I am too old for this shit.