The first thing that comes to mind when I think of Fat Tuesday is "dark" and "dirty", each vying for the position of first.
This is the kind of place where underage ASU kids sneak in and a frat boy roofies a girl's drink and catches her alone in the dark, grimy, secluded bathroom area. I'm serious. It's that bad.
This is not comparable to the daiquiri/margarita slush deals in Vegas either.
The overjuiced Pauly D look-a-like bartender would not leave us alone, and kept regaling us with tales of why girlfriends and boyfriends are a waste of time and you should just kick em to the curb in the morning.... Thanks for the advice, broseph, I'll be sure to tell my boyfriend that.
And speaking of the hangovers: You know how I knew I was going to get a hangover? Not because of the alcohol in my drink, but because of the sugar. It was like they dumped 10 lbs of sugar in each machine. And guess when I got that hangover? Not 20 minutes after finishing my drink. Talk about feeling like crap, ingest 300 grams of sugar along with probably 3 shots of rum blended with ice. BLECK.