And I'll be leaving a big tip for the cleaning crew...
It wasn't the banquet, at which I only had a glass of merlot.
It wasn't the Catamount, at which I shot pool long enough to get sober after two mojitos and a Corona.
It wasn't the after-party at the hot tub, where much rum was consumed.
It was the after-after-party, at which more wine was consumed. (The bottle had been left there for the previos occupants of my room, but they left without opening. We honored the gift on their behalf.)
And it's strange how Chilean red has the color of blood when cleaning up the next morning. (Sorry, Steph.)
UPDATE: After a bit of consideration, and basking in the Desert Sun for an hour, I feel much more functional. And thinking about it, maybe I was doomed at the rum.
It wasn't the Catamount, at which I shot pool long enough to get sober after two mojitos and a Corona.
It wasn't the after-party at the hot tub, where much rum was consumed.
It was the after-after-party, at which more wine was consumed. (The bottle had been left there for the previos occupants of my room, but they left without opening. We honored the gift on their behalf.)
And it's strange how Chilean red has the color of blood when cleaning up the next morning. (Sorry, Steph.)
UPDATE: After a bit of consideration, and basking in the Desert Sun for an hour, I feel much more functional. And thinking about it, maybe I was doomed at the rum.