Once, a hundred years ago, I worked for a couple of years at a liquor store. I learned more about alcohol during that time than I ever needed to know. That was a long time ago. I have forgotten almost everything I learned.

Once, to celebrate the 20th anniversary of the opening of that liquor store, the woman who owned the store brought out a $389 bottle of tequila from her personal stash. I don’t remember the brand name. It wasn’t available on the market. It was only available to collectors.

She poured a shot glass for each of us employees. Monetarily, that one shot was like drinking an entire bottle of super high-end tequila. It was the most expensive booze I had ever poured down my throat.

She gave each of us two shots. It was like taking a couple shots of God. It was almost as good as taking a tab of acid. It was almost as good as munching a magic mushroom. And it was the best tasting alcohol I’ve ever had. That was the day that I developed a reverence for the holy desert drink.

And that is why no tequila I’ve had since, no matter the price, has never been as good. I might have been spoiled on that day but still any good tequila is better than any of the other stuff.