There’s nothing fun, really, about getting sick in your car while driving down the 215 on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon with a headache that is slicing your brain in two. Fourteen hours earlier I was at Frankie’s Tiki Room, thinking about ordering a soda and making it an early night when someone suggested I try the Ninth Island. “151 proof? No way,” I said. To which my friend replied, “It’s just Frankie’s. They’re saying that to be cool.” How naïve I am. The first drink did me in. Drunkenly, I opted for a second. Halfway through, I realized I would suffer my longest night. 1712 W. Charleston Blvd. 24/7. 385-3110.
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