Because I have a street, well for lack of better word, ministry, therefore I don't drink in order to be an example to them.
However, several years ago, my brother Nelson came breezing into town from way way way up north where he has to take a plane, then h elicopter to get to his camp. He wanted to go to a very beautiful pub and he made me come. Once there he asked me what I wanted to drink and would not take no for an answer.(He is Irish to the core, I am adopted and Jewish but with Celtic -Jewish ancestry). He ordered an entire pitcher of Strawberry daquiri's for me. The first tasted so lovely and I chugged them down. After about five minutes I ran to the people at the next table whom I did not know and told them to be calm. I said that the doors were all missing but for them not to panic, my brother would do something. I was totally bombed.
My brother was talking to someone and looked over and noticed me sitting on the table of the poor couple who he said had their hands over their mouths to keep from screaming in laughter.
He slung me right over h is shoulder and as we headed for the exit I shouted "it's a miracle, the doors are back.' The room exploded into shouts of hysterical laughter. Much more than that I don't remember. I never drank after that. blush blush blush
Do you prefer quiet dinners for just a couple or loud boisterous dinners with a kazillion people?