Varying iterations of Mexican screwdrivers in tubular glasses with skinny straws and you drink them really fast on the back patio that resembles someone's back yard with cutesy twinkling lights and wooden picnic tables and everyone's smoking because they still can, and then a white Louis Armstrong summons you back into the small yet cozy bar with his smooth big band crooning reminiscent of your parents' dinner-making music and you know all the words and your head hurts a lot the next day.