FORWARD

On a recent Saturday evening in July 2001, SSQQ instructor Daryl Armstrong and his fabulous wife Joanne escorted about 30 SSQQ Faithfuls on a trip to 5 different venues in search of the Perfect Margarita. Yes, I admit I was with them. There are too many pictures floating around to deny it.

Before I start my story about the Margarita Tour, there are some things I have wanted to tell the world about Daryl Armstrong for a long time and this is a good time to get some things off my chest. There are very few people at the studio I admire and respect more than Daryl. He is truly blessed with immense talent. 

In fact it is this incredible talent that irritates the heck out of me. Like Salieri to Mozart, Daryl reminds me at every turn how a true extrovert operates. 

His most famous theme is 'Hawaiian Shirt' night. Daryl lived in Hawaii for several years and from what I gather enjoyed himself thoroughly. It is said he has practically an entire closet, possibly even a complete room, dedicated strictly to his Hawaiian shirt collection. 

Another popular theme is 'Elvis Night'. Daryl does an excellent 'Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen' in the Elvis tradition. He looks pretty convincing as Elvis with his sideburns. Besides Elvis, other themes include 'Hat Night', 'Sunglasses Night', 'Fringe Night', 'Vest Night', 'Men in Black', plus 'Red, White, and Blue' night. There are definitely others, but these are the ones I can remember off the top of my head. Anytime I ever see someone wearing something totally peculiar at the studio on Wednesday, I don't have to ask. I just assume it is another crazy Daryl theme. 

The Search for the Perfect Margarita

If you can't beat 'em, hire 'em. That's what I say. And join 'em too!!  When I found out Daryl was offering another of his infamous Margarita Trips, I signed on instantly. I was impressed with the whole operation from the start. I cannot imagine a more well run operation than this tour. It came off with the precision of a Swiss Watch. Amazing. 

First a day ahead of time Daryl phoned me with the secret location of where we would meet. I assume this kept people from pressuring to join at the last minute or tagging along. He whispered over the phone to me in a tone usually reserved for Paul Revere, "Rick, its Daryl. Longhorn. Be there by 7:15 pm and don't be late!" 

So on Saturday night there I was with 30 other men and women trying to act natural before the storm hit. Hawaiian shirts were everywhere, probably out of respect for Daryl's fondness for Hawaiian shirts. These people were not innocent, but I won't bother listing their names. However I think pictures of all of them dancing naked at Cabo are on Miss L's secret Internet website somewhere. Daryl gave us the thumbs up so we all got on a big yellow school bus driven by a man named Reggie.

Our first visit was to Tia Maria's. Joanne would phone ahead to each restaurant or club to let them know we were on our way. They would have the Margaritas waiting for all of us by the time we got there. We would just walk over and grab the next one on the table. These tasty drinks went down fast and easy. Yum!

One gentleman, code named R, drank 3 of them at our first stop. He never says anything, so I suppose no one can tell the difference between when he is sober or lit up. I on the other hand never shut the F up so I stuck to just one. 

At Tia Maria's while I was still conscious I decided to interview Daryl about the origins of his Margarita Trip. He said he started doing it during his years in Hawaii. He would visit different clubs and explain to them he intended to bring a busload of professionals to visit. Since the visitors didn't need to 'sit down', this allowed the club to serve dinners to its regular patrons and still find room for a busload of 40 people who would just stagger around and entertain the customers. Daryl said he did so many Margarita Trips that he actually got written up in the Honolulu newspaper. He didn't say which section, but I assume it was probably a Man About Town piece in the Society column. Listening to him proudly tell his story, I couldn't help but feel I had met the perfect man for the right job. Daryl took his tours seriously and was rewarded with the gratitude of his many friends for a job well done. Just as much as I am sure SSQQ has never been the same since he arrived, I am sure the island has never been the same since he left. 

The moment we got back on the bus, I could tell something had changed. The bus was really loud!!  Everybody was talking and apparently didn't mind that lights turned on followed by calls to 911 in every neighborhood house as we passed.

Next we went to a place called Tony's, probably a different Tony's than most people have heard of. Here the lady with the Naked Internet Web Site, first initial L, decided to mix with some of the patrons. The next thing I knew she grabbed me to do a Swing demonstration for the customers. Good grief. 

Tony's was also the place where I told my first dirty joke. I know lots of dirty jokes since everybody sends me LOTS of them. I only retell the ones I can understand. Usually I get a polite smile or a groan, but I was stunned at the reception my joke received. This time the laughter to my joke practically raised the roof. God, I like these trips!  I can be funny after two Margaritas!

We discovered a woman named K was the only person on the trip who had never taken a dance class at SSQQ. Oh my word!!  We put her into a circle and surrounded her and touched her head with our hands. We enveloped her in the spiritual warmth of the SSQQ fraternal brotherhood. Soon she was nearly in tears - not from our warmth, but because we were suffocating her. Oh. 

Then we were off to our favorite visit - the Red Dog Saloon or something to that extent. Our swing demonstrator, Miss L, was also our most dedicated photographer. She lined everyone up for a picture then suddenly started hopping up and down like crazy!!  I have seen people do almost anything to get a smile, but this was impressive. It turned out that she was standing in an ant bed!!  Her poor feet were covered in ants and you know the saying 'ants in the pants'?  Well, this could be a dance training technique - I have never in my life seen footwork as impressive as Miss L!  Several men offered to help with the ants in the pants, but Miss L was sober enough to know better. Bless her heart. She was really attacked - I saw the bites a few days later and felt so sorry for her. She had one nice break: Miss L said she barely felt a thing. Hmm. Right then I became dimly aware we were all in trouble. The warning was too late. I had already passed the point of no return.

The Red Dog was a dive. It was practically deserted. There were 8 people when we entered, 38 people while we were there, and 7 when we left - I think one person joined us. We were getting pretty looped. Several of us danced two-step around the pool tables to "I'm in Love with the Armadillo". One lady, the Divine Miss M, sang a Patsy Cline torch song karaoke-style while a gentleman, Mr. R, did a George Strait song. Or maybe it was a Clint Black song. Or a Tiny Tim song. Or Lyle Lovett. I was past being able to tell the difference. All I cared about was my group enjoyed my next dirty joke. 

The place seemed so sad when we decided to go. For a while there, it had been one heck of a hoppin' joint. But when we left it went back into its catatonic state. Sad. We were definitely the life of the party. Daryl could have rented us out - "Daryl, my party sucks. Please send me your 'life of the party' team. My party needs your kind of people!"  Now that I think about it, maybe these places hired Daryl to bring us over. Why am I always so worried about Daryl?

Our fourth venue was a classy joint called Surfer's Paradise at the Edwards Complex off Silber and I-10. It had beautiful fountains and gorgeous waitresses wearing skimpy Hawaiian outfits. I am sure Daryl felt right at home again. For a moment, I thought I noticed him standing there with his ponytail again, then realized it was an illusion. 

Here we actually found tables with padded seats to sit at!!  Oh boy!  This inspired me to tell my favorite dirty joke, the kind that people need to be sitting down to here or risk injury. The place exploded at the punch line!  It was so popular one lady asked me to email it to her. Oh sure, as if I am going to remember which one it was tomorrow. 

An unfortunate thing happened to me - a nice-looking man in an expensive business suit grabbed my arm as I walked by and introduced himself to me. It turned out his 8-year old daughter attends the same Catholic girls school, Duchesne, as my daughter Samantha. He recognized me from the school and wanted to ask me some questions about the 3rd grade teachers and the curriculum. Are you kidding? I had just knocked down my 4th Margarita. I was fortunate to even remember what school Sam went to. 

It got worse. 'What do you think about the school's curriculum?' 'What is your opinion of the dress code?' 'What effect do you suppose a girl's school will have on your daughter's relationships with men later in life?'  I just stared at him blankly. 

Here I am staggering while standing trying to fake my way through this serious conversation when the Trippers decide to start singing the 'Do Re Mi' song from 'Sound of Music'. Every person in the bar is astonished. Good grief. The gentleman looks at them curiously and asks, "Do you know those people?"

"Them? Oh, heck no. Those people? Nah. Aren't they ridiculous? Who let them in?" 

Almost on cue, one of the women from our group grabbed my arm from behind. She blew my cover completely. Now attached to me like a Siamese Twin and wearing a big grin from head to toe, she screamed from an inch away, "There you are, Rick!!!  You were lost so Daryl sent me to find you!!  It's time to go!!" 

Daryl appeared right behind her to whisk me off. I apologized to him and said it was time to go. It's been fun, but gotta run!  I might add the memory of this man's parting expression makes me very reluctant to want to see him again at the school in the Fall. One more dent in my facade of respectfulness...

And on to Cabo we went. According to legend, on the last trip Cabo had been the place where most of the misbehavior had taken place. Up till now, our trip had been tame in comparison to our predecessors. Apparently we were a rookie crew for the most part and didn't know how to misbehave properly yet. 

Well, here the veterans took over. They immediately climbed to the top of the bar and started dancing a wild aboriginal zulu dance to the Disco music. This place was strange. It was a nice place, but completely empty!! I think it had zero customers. Zero. Nada. Nil. No one. It was just us and a few employees whom we outnumbered badly. You all wanna dance up on the bar? Sure, go right ahead. Just let us live.  And up we went, about a dozen of us, dancing freestyle perilously five feet off the floor. The bar was narrow. Once I lost my balance and decided to jump down. Hmm, maybe that's where my heel bruise came from… I wondered why my foot hurt so badly the next day!!  Now that I am writing this story I just figured out how pretty stupid it was to dance up there considering how drunk and out of control we were. But it was so much fun to dance up on the bar like a frenzied banshee. Everyone screamed in laughter… I didn't want it to end!

Someone handed me a dollar for my efforts while I was up there. I have no idea who it was - I later gave it to Reggie, our driver. All I know is I was very flattered at the time. In all my years of dancing, it was the first buck I have ever received. Thank you whoever you were/are. You were probably too drunk to remember who you were either. Hmm. 

Back on the bus!!  Good grief that bus bounced a lot on the way home. What happened to the shock absorbers??  I felt like my brain and my toes were changing places as my head kept snapping back and forth. Do Margaritas affect neck muscles?  Well, I guess so - I didn't have any left as my head left bruises on my shoulders. My body was jello. My brain was slime. My skeleton had turned to ooze. Pour me, er, poor me. There were parts of me all over the bus. Someone get a mop, quick!

The bus stopped at the Longhorn and all of us drained out. Once known as the Trippers, we had become the Margarita Drippers. Fortunately the Longhorn was downhill so we bayou-ed our way down the Longhorn Canal and out onto the dance floor. They asked for $5. I handed them my wallet and they handed it back. Someone got a squeegee and pushed me in. I immediately looked for a mermaid to dance with. 

The Margarita Drippers slowly made their way back to consciousness as the evening wore on. It was nearly 2 am and I was still a mess. I turned the Global Positioning Locater on my car's dashboard to home and let it auto-drive me to safety. 

No headache the next day, but no energy either. Plus my foot throbbed mysteriously. I zombied my way through classes. I was pretty useless to society for the next day too.

So was it worth it? 

You better believe it. I can't wait for the next one! I haven't misbehaved that badly in years! I am already memorizing some new jokes and I have a new video on order for advanced aboriginal zulu moves… 

Thank you, Daryl. Thank you, Joanne. 

By the way, here are the Margarita Trip Pictures!!
 

2008 Update Those were the days, my friend, we thought they'd never end... Gone is the pony tail.  Gone are the Margarita Trips.  Gone are the Tattoo Leather and Lace parties. In their place is a handsome, hard-working family man helping his lovely wife Joanne raise their two children Austin and Aly.  These days, Daryl is as clean cut as any man who has ever entered the studio doors. Where did the rogue go?  I have a hunch the insanity is still there.  After all, inside every older person is a younger person wondering what happened. Daryl and I don't get many chances to talk because we are usually pretty busy on Wednesday nights here at the studio with Western lessons.  Typically Daryl greets me with the line, "Thank you for owning a dance studio so I can have fun." I invariably reply, "And thank you for helping me stay in business so I can have fun too."  That's how old friends relate to each other when they are old. In March 2006, I finally got around to giving Daryl Armstrong some long overdue credit he deserved. In an article titled The Matchmaker, I wrote about the different Eras we have had here at SSQQ. In my Chapter on the late Nineties, I explained how the insanity and chaos generated by this gifted gentleman had much to do with reviving the energy here at SSQQ at a time when the studio wasn't doing very well. Besides the Margarita Tours, there were the hysterical Halloween costumes as well as the infamous Tattoo Leather and Lace Parties. Daryl and his group of fellow lunatics created a whole lot of fun here at SSQQ. Any story about Daryl Armstrong and SSQQ would not be complete until you read the story titled The Comeback Kids If there was any doubt before that Daryl is slightly cuckoo, this story will remove that doubt.  I promise.   RA