I don’t drink. Well, I guess you can call me a social drinker. You know, the occasional drinker who drinks only when there’s an occasion? It’s just that there’s rarely an occasion.

But when I was in Misibis, there was always an occasion—a valid reason—to drink.

On our last night, I ended up downing four margaritas (I know it’s girly, but hey, I don’t drink, so you need to pat me on the back, actually) and a shot of Patron Tequila.

I seriously thought I’d throw up on the plates of sisig and rib eye steak, but I didn’t. I was even able to walk like a supermodel (you know, straight line) when I got up and walked back to my room.

I surprise myself sometimes.