Trees' "Hell In a Bucket" Concoction Is Neither Hell Nor A Bucket

"Bucket" indeed.
"Bucket" indeed.
Jaime-Paul Falcon

The concoction you see above is 32 ounces of Adios Motherfucker. "What's an Adios Motherfucker?" you might be asking. Well, according to the internet, it's a mixture of rum, gin, vodka, tequila, blue curacao, and 7-Up. It's known as the drink of destruction, one that sends you well over the limit and into the night to do misdeeds. Trees sells this for $14 and you even get to keep the cup.

Let me drive this home. For just 14 measly smackers you can get 32 ounces of almost pure liquor. You can have a 32-ounce margarita, a 32-ounce Long Island, or a 32-ounce Adios Motherfucker. Plus you get to keep the collectable cup. They call this tier of mayhem "Hell In A Bucket," and after you order your drink, pat yourself on the back because you just gamed the system at Trees. A beer here is $5, most shots are $6, and you just bought four shots for almost nothing.

At the front of Trees there's a coin-operated breathalyzer that tells you if you're safe to drive. Seeing this, I decide an experiment needs to occur -- I need to order a Hell in a Bucket and see if I'm safe to leave the venue once done. Throwing caution to the wind I order the Adios Motherfucker and watch in dismay as the bartender grabs two bottles and gives them a heavy pour. He then repeats this step with two different bottles. Then a mixture of blue curacao and 7-Up went into the cup and it was handed to me. I took a sip, and immediately said, "This was a bad idea."

A quarter of the way through my Hell In a Bucket I felt nothing. I concentrated on taking in the show around me. I was even slightly perturbed when halfway through the drink I still didn't feel a thing. At this point I considered ordering a second round, but lo and behold three-quarters of the way through the 32 ounces of madness shit began to get real. My speech slurred, I gladly accepted a drink from a random person, I finished the Hell In A Bucket, and then I completely lost track of time.

Somewhere around mid-encore I remembered I needed to go to the in-house breathalyzer and find out the damage. Therein lies the rub. The breathalyzer is coin-operated, I had no coins, and when I asked the bartenders at Trees for change I was informed that there were no quarters in the whole of Trees as their customers don't use them. Predictably, I had got drunk and my plans had gone to shit. So without the machine to tell me how inebriated I was, how could I possibly judge? Well, I was slightly slurring, I was being a little loud, but I had my wits about me enough to turn down a request for a hotel afterparty. So, loud? Yes. Obnoxious? Certainly. Dumb enough to go to a random person's hotel room? No.

You may be dangerous, Hell in a Bucket, but you're not that dangerous. Also, your collectable cup is just some plain green cup, and that sucks. Put some etched white lettered "Trees" on that shit, or "I drank the Bucket," or just make it into the shape of a tree. Give us something to work with here. Fuck, instead of giving me this green plastic, make a custom 32-ounce bucket. I'd go to town on an actual bucket like I was Mr. Ed after a long day of shooting.

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