Remember that time and that Exit 11 diner,
With the four of us and two “Gzhelkas”
Knocking ourselves out?
It all went splendidly if one takes into account
That one of 'em guys got back on the wagon
And the other guy’s wife
Got unreasonably jealous
Thinking he was getting wasted with gals
So both bottles were technically ours?
Well, consequences were minor,
Except I woke up in Paris,
In one of those hotels they call boutique
To avoid ridicule and critique
And to explain away peculiarities of the joint
With the shared bathroom at the end of the hall
But
With the added benefit of a washbasin at the bedside
So I could puke with lights
Off, not getting out of bed. I must’ve been quite a wondrous sight,
Which made my wife and me mildly collide,
Given she had planned for this trip
For months and months, thinking Paris might be hip.
So if “Gzhelka” is served tonight,
With or without rocks or lime,
I’ll pass this time.