Africa's not for Sissies

Chapter 16: The Tequila Challenge

PARTY TONIGHT!!!

The words were scrawled in large letters above the reception desk when we arrived back at the hostel. It was to be a theme party. I spent the rest of the afternoon trying to come up with a costume. I kept poking through my backpack, but there wasn't much to work with.

As the day wore on, people started showing up to the bar in costumes. I was impressed with their ingenuity since they were all backpackers and so presumably also had little to work with. One guy stuck twigs and weeds all over his body and became "the swamp thing," Jerry looked pretty funny as "little red riding hood," and I eventually decided to be Captain Canuck. I was stuck for ideas and it was simple enough. I wore my Canadian flag boxers on the outside of my shorts and borrowed a red bed sheet and made a cape out of it. It was probably the most patriotic thing I'd yet done, and I felt a little uncomfortable to advertise my nationality in such an obvious way.

The staff was trying to recruit people to partake in "The Tequila Challenge." A sign behind the bar explained the rules:

The Tequila Challenge

· Warm Up: 4 shots of tequila mixed with Red Bull, to be enjoyed at leisure.

· Tequila Slammer: 2 shots of tequila mixed with Sprite, slammed on the table, and downed while still fizzing.

· Mexican Asshole: 1 shot of tequila immediately followed by 1 shot of Tabasco Sauce.

· 4x4: 4 shots of tequila alternating with 4 shots of Red Bull.

· Tequila Suicide: A traditional shot of tequila, only the lemon is squeezed in the eyes and the salt is snorted up the nose.

· Oven Cleaner: A shot of tequila, half snorted up one nostril, half in the other.

· Chickens Revenge: The final shot of tequila, washed down with a raw egg chewed up and eaten - shell and all.

I counted off the shots on my fingers: 4 + 2 + 1 + 4 +1 + 1+1 = death.

"No thanks," I said to Phil when he placed the sign-up sheet in front of me. I took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.

"Captain Canada?"

I turned to see an attractive girl pulling up a seat next to me.

"Well, captain canuck really, but nobody knows what a 'canuck' is around here."

"Wasn't that what they called Canadian soldiers in the war?"

"Are you Canadian?"

"No."

"American?"

"Nope. You can't tell by my accent?"

"Nope."

"That makes me happy. It means my English is good. I'm going to let you try and guess."

We were interrupted by a ringing chorus of, "Shot! Shot! Shot! Shot!" I looked over to see that "The Tequila Challenge" had started. Four people were participating. All guys. All staff. They had all just slammed one shot of tequila down on the table and were picking up a second.

I turned my attention back to her. "So English is not your first language." She could have been Afrikaans. She was blonde with high cheekbones, and could have been related to Charlize Theron, but she didn't have an Afrikaans accent. "You're not Afrikaans?"

"Nope, but close. My name is Chantelle."

Now I knew she was Dutch. I'd learned that Afrikaans was pretty much the same language as Dutch. Jerry had commented numerous times that he was able to understand Afrikaans, but to him it sounded like "baby Dutch." I decided not to tell her I'd figured it out.