Jaegermeister and Chipotle

The first time I drank in earnest I was 16 years old. It was a relatively warm December night in the bathroom of a Chipotle on Grand Avenue in Saint Paul. Actually it was probably 20 degrees, but my memories of the night are just so dang warm and fuzzy.

Scene of the crime

My high school buddies and I ran into a Senior from our school at Chipotle. He sported a full beard and shaggy hair, just like you imagine him looking. He offered to buy us some alcohol, and we decided that night was as good a night as any to drink take pulls in the restroom of a burrito joint. We ordered one bottle of Jaegermeister, having no idea what that would cost. I can’t remember what we paid for it but I assume we gave the guy $50 and told him to keep the change, because we were cool like that.

My buddies and I quickly ran to the gas station across the street to get a Monster energy drink as chaser. Honestly we probably stole it. We were aspiring petty criminals at this point in our lives. Typing this out right now, I am disgusted with my drink choices. If I ordered a shot of Jaegermeister with a Monster today I may as well put on my FOX hat and pick up a can of SKOAL on my way home from the bar. Just a scummy decision by 16 year old me.

Anyway, our Senior friend arrived back at Chipotle with the liquor and passed the rectangular green bottle to us under the table. The bastard probably walked away with a $25 tip for his services. We quickly buried the Jag under our winter coats and, like giddy schoolgirls, smuggled it into the restroom. Looking back, a Chipotle restroom was the worst place to have my first round of shots. We all know what vile things go down in Chipotle bathrooms. Some of you are probably responsible for those things. Nonetheless, we locked the door, thereby banning all the other customers from using the facilities that Chipotle customers so desperately need.

With one guy in the stall, one guy standing by the urinal, and another guarding the door, we started pounding Jaeg like we were a super lame version of Manziel‘s posse in Vegas. We drank a decent chunk of the bottle then kind of just walked around St. Paul for awhile, letting the liquor take effect. When you’re 16, you just assume everything will be awesome once you’re buzzed and don’t plan out the rest of the night very well.

Eventually we all went home after chewing a ton of gum to hide the smell of booze from our parents. We were slick like that.