One of the delights of turning 30 is that you can turn down pretty much any shot at a bar. If someone orders me tequila, I ain’t drinking it. And after pretty much an entire decade of downing Jager Bombs, I can’t recall the last time I had one.
I mean, I would have one a fucking week in my 20s, at a minimum. Ugh. I’m getting gaggy and that weird tangy saliva all up in my mouth just thinking about it.
I never want to have another one in my life again.
That said, if I was at Hopfenstangerl in Austria and watched this bartender’s amazing pouring trick, I might, might, might be tempted to do one.
Actually. Nah. I never want to see another.
[H/T oddly, my old boss I interned for at 21]