Red Bull is not okay for me.
I turn into a hyper, babbling, looney tunes alien when I drink Red Bull.
I blame my good friend Kate Heilmann* for the fact that I even know this. Kate was part of the despedida época a few weeks back. That was when all of my friends decided to leave Costa Rica at once.
Well, we had several great going away parties for Kate about a month ago. Thanks to Kate's indecisiveness, easily swayed attitude, and ability to write off plane ticket change fees though, we had a few more days for another chance to squeeze in a few more despedidas.
After staying out a tad bit late on Friday night, we were moving slowly on a rainy Saturday in San José. The farthest we made it from home was to stop in to say hello to Patricia, our Madre Tica around the corner, and then hit up the local AM/PM for some snacks.
It was a little like we were having a wake. Throughout the day different people passed in and stayed for a few minutes to pay their respects to Kate before she departed. It was easy on us, we didn't have to go anywhere.
It was tiring to be the hostess though. I was really trying hard to ensure everyone's snack needs were met and there was a chair cleared off for them to sit on. I was pooped by the end of the day.
Kate however still somehow convinced me to make another go at it for her final night. Since, much like Kate, I am also indecisive and easily swayed, she didn't have to work to hard.
We bought a bottle of wine and headed over to say goodbye to Patricia, our Madre Tica. We conveniently headed over at dinner time and acted pleasantly surprised when we were offered lasagna. I feigned that I could only eat a little because I was already a little llena from a late lunch- which Kate promptly very vocally called me out on. I was just trying to play it cool.
It was a fun night of story telling and reminiscing, lots of recuerdos were remembered and made. We shared stories and memories of all the good friends that have passed though Patty's house. Patricia could write a book with the endless stories of the crazy gringuitos she has played Madre Tica to. She was getting so fired up from the stories and may have even whacked Christian a couple of times in the passionate throes of storytelling.
Innocent so far but now the Red Bull comes into play.
With bellies full and aching from laughing, we left Patricia and headed to Bar Morazan by Parque Morazan where we were meeting up with friends. On the way we stopped at a gas station to use the ATM and Kate suggested I buy a Red Bull to perk up. I don't drink Red Bull, but for some reason in moments like this if someone suggests it to me, it sounds like a good idea.
I slowly sipped my can of Red Bull with my pinkie out in the back of the taxi en camino. By the time we got to the bar, I realized I had made a mistake and was beginning to see the signs of the talkative monster I become when I drink Red Bull. I talked without coming up for air for the next 12 hours.
Then, I dove face first into the bed and crashed hard for two hours before being told it was time to start Kate's final despedida.
Post crash, Kate reminded me that she had seen this alien come out once before on the only other occasion that she had seen me drink Red Bull. Thank you Kate for reminding me when Nick Poché* forced me to drink Red Bull in Manuel Antonio over New Year's.
Así es la vida!
*Names have been changed to protect the identities of parties involved.
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