Right....here's my very own "never touching that drink ever again" story...
My mate's 23rd birthday in the lovely warm month of july (back in 1984). He has a gathering in Beaumonts wine bar which was above and near the snow and rock store and around the corner from harry parkes shop on corporation st. Anyway, he gets me on the sangria, which tasted like pop. Usual story, drank loads of it, end of the night i walk outside to make my way to the night service bus home (no.46 to great barr). Night air hits me but i still get on the bus. At 12.30 am i think I'd better get off said bus cos i was gonna puke. I get off - at Newton, by the baths. There was a west indian takeaway kiosk there and both servers just watched in disgust as i chundered and chundered. Despite my near blind drunk state, i could definitely hear the kissing of teeth from their direction. Don't blame them !
I then get approached by a young man who advises i should get a taxi home and that i should follow him to the other side of the dual carriageway to the phone box outside the elbow room - via the underpass. I duly staggered after him without thinking and lucky for me, he was genuine and not out to mug me.
30 mins later I'm home and telling my teetotal irish mammy what had happened and that a nice young man had took me in the dead of night down a subway to call a cab. After dousing me in holy water, she sent me to bed with a bowl and a few gaelic swear words ringing in my ear. 37 years later i can remember it as if it was last month.
As for sangria.....it can get in the effing sea !!