You never mean to ride the mechanical bull, or eat three of the cotton candies, or talk to the girl in the shirt-dress, but then you lose out on the third lead in an ad for herpes cream, and...
It's not clear which decision is worse: the one where you order your fifth $5 tequila drink, or the one where you decided to stick around to see if this next band's better than the first one. Either way, your fingers will smell like pastrami when you wake up.
Note-to-self for next time: though there are mariachi dancers here, you are not one, nor should you try to be one, ever again.
"So, that means you're 15 years older than me? That's not so bad".