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ever seen that movie “rock star” with marky mark?  yeah, me neither, but now i’ll never need to because i’m pretty sure the main character of that film is bartending at the saint. a flannel shirt and tight jeans might be the universal uniform of hipster, but that lion’s mane of hair and bandana tied on his head was clearly an ode to the days of axl. without doing my proper research beforehand, i walked into this aqua beacon on capitol hill without realizing that it was a tequila bar.  but before i go further, let’s rewind four years to a birthday bar crawl where i was conned by a person of questionable taste into doing a shot of sauza gold.  an hour later, i was laying incapacitated on the floor of my then boyfriend’s apartment with the ceiling spinning for a good hour.  needless to say, tequila and i broke up that night (probably should have done the same with the boyfriend), and i haven’t looked back since (for either).  however, my motto in life is “try everything twice” so i sat down at the bar of the saint with the sun beaming in through the windows (finally a refreshing change from the ever-popular dark-as-shit bar).  though i saw the sad lonely fernet bottle relegated in the back corner, i decided “when in rome…” and said a little prayer to dios mio that tequila history wouldnt repeat itself as i ordered the angelflower.  alas, a sunset-coloured blend was set before me, and maybe it was the cocktail, or maybe it was the jocular promises from the bartender to help get my forlorn friend laid, but either way, history was rewritten that night.

tequila salvation