On charming bartenders and liquor taxes

I just found out that my future city, Little Rock, Arkansas, charges a 10 percent alcohol tax on mixed drinks in hotels, motels, restaurants, and bars. I found this out while drinking margaritas (per usual) with my mom at a taco restaurant. Four margs later between the two of us, we had racked up a $9.90 liquor tax. Dope.

It's not that I'm super into drinking. I mean, I am 22 so it's still relatively fun to go to a bar and not have to undergo the extreme anxiety, sweating and lying that comes with using a fake ID. I actually went to a bar recently and was told that I look like I'm 12. I love brandishing my ID, therefore, drinking in public is still fun.

My future state is one of 12 states that doesn't allow alcohol sales on Sunday. It's also one of the few states where you can find a wet city in the middle of a dry county or a dry city in the middle of a wet county. Alcohol is also not sold on Christmas Day in Arkansas.

After finishing our dinner of delicious tacos, my mom and I drove back to the hotel and found seats at the downstairs bar. The bartender convinced me to drink some concoction of gin and champagne, which tasted like an effervescent ginger-ale and took a chunk out of my life the next day.

Sometimes you get paired with charming, chatty bartenders that look up apartments for you on Zillow and show you pictures of their wife. They also might over-serve you. And you might forget that Little Rock has a liquor tax. Don't do that.