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By Lyle Fitzsimmons - Buster Douglas beat Mike Tyson last week.
Twenty years ago last week… that is.
And while consoling myself to the idea I’m old enough to clearly recall an event two decades ago, part of me still reacts with the same slack-jawed shock I displayed upon initially learning the fateful Tokyo result in real time back on Feb. 11, 1990.
It’s only been 20 years, but, in context, it feels like the Stone Age.
George H.W. was still the only Bush to occupy the White House. Michael Bolton and Paula Abdul were still vying for the top spot on the Billboard charts. And as any red-blooded Niagara Falls native a month shy of legally drinking in the U.S. was apt to do, I was headed for Canada.
For a single 20-year-old with a tank of gas and a week’s pay, it was Mecca. Comely tourists from around the world. Respectable bars with favorable exchange rates. And laws allowing anyone 19 or over to participate in whatever alcohol-flavored hi-jinks they could find.
That particular Saturday night wasn’t so productive on the hi-jinks front, so my wingman – high-school hockey star Dan Cline – and I ultimately trekked to our favorite dive to drown sorrows with glass upon glass of our drink of choice… the tequila sunrise.
Think what you will about the utility of tequila, orange juice and grenadine as individual en****** these days, but I unashamedly vouch for their 1990 efficacy as a concoction whose objective was leaving users capable of little other than off-key juke box singing to the Eagles’ song of the same name. [Click Here To Read More]
Twenty years ago last week… that is.
And while consoling myself to the idea I’m old enough to clearly recall an event two decades ago, part of me still reacts with the same slack-jawed shock I displayed upon initially learning the fateful Tokyo result in real time back on Feb. 11, 1990.
It’s only been 20 years, but, in context, it feels like the Stone Age.
George H.W. was still the only Bush to occupy the White House. Michael Bolton and Paula Abdul were still vying for the top spot on the Billboard charts. And as any red-blooded Niagara Falls native a month shy of legally drinking in the U.S. was apt to do, I was headed for Canada.
For a single 20-year-old with a tank of gas and a week’s pay, it was Mecca. Comely tourists from around the world. Respectable bars with favorable exchange rates. And laws allowing anyone 19 or over to participate in whatever alcohol-flavored hi-jinks they could find.
That particular Saturday night wasn’t so productive on the hi-jinks front, so my wingman – high-school hockey star Dan Cline – and I ultimately trekked to our favorite dive to drown sorrows with glass upon glass of our drink of choice… the tequila sunrise.
Think what you will about the utility of tequila, orange juice and grenadine as individual en****** these days, but I unashamedly vouch for their 1990 efficacy as a concoction whose objective was leaving users capable of little other than off-key juke box singing to the Eagles’ song of the same name. [Click Here To Read More]
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