—-Filed by Captain Michael — Annotated by Izzy, Monitored (Grudgingly) by Dave
Some people collect stamps. I collect proof that Earth occasionally gets something right.
Technically, this mission wasn’t sanctioned. Dave labeled it “non-essential cultural research.” But after twenty hours of “routine atmospheric stabilization testing,” I determined that the only thing worth stabilizing was my blood alcohol level.
Thus began The Great Global Agave Reconnaissance Initiative — part travel guide, part tequila-fueled midlife enlightenment. Izzy came along to keep me alive. Dave recorded everything out of what he later described as “morbid curiosity about human priorities.”
## Rules Of Exploration (Written In Salt)
If you can’t pronounce it, drink it twice. Never buy tequila in a plastic bottle. If the bartender looks like he knows secrets, ask for the reserve bottle. If it burns twice, it’s telling you the truth. Collect bottles, not regrets — though both fit nicely in cargo.
01 Cabo San Lucas, Mexico — Gamal’s Counter Of Enlightenment
Cabo was base camp and the spiritual heart of the entire operation. My mission: re-establish contact with Gamal before the samples ran out.
Best finds included Don Julio 70, Fortaleza Blanco, and Gamal’s Private Reserve — the stuff of legend. Gamal knows more about tequila than NASA knows about propulsion.
Izzy swears I paid in gold flakes. Gamal pretended not to notice. He bought a new car the next day and donated A million pesos to the local food bank…
The vibe? Half shrine, half comedy club. The man sells tequila like he’s negotiating peace between galaxies. I declared him the “true north of tequila” and swore eternal loyalty. Dave logged me as “emotionally compromised.”
02 Tequila, Jalisco — The Fields Of The Blue Heart
Spiritual pilgrimage. Objective: determine if agave fields can be seen from orbit. (They can.)
El Tesoro Reposado, Don Fulano Imperial, and Fortaleza Still Strength Blanco made the short list. It’s like Napa Valley, but everyone smells better. I tried to blend in by wearing a poncho. I failed.
Izzy noted that I looked like a tourist from space. Dave confirmed I was visible from orbit. The flight from Cabo to Jalisco was smooth — low altitude, high arrogance.
03 Tokyo, Japan — Benfiddich Research Outpost
Cultural confusion achieved. Objective: discover how precision and tequila coexist.
Fortaleza Reserve, Casamigos Japanese Cask, and a sakura-infused experiment took the night from curiosity to transcendence.
When the bartender bows before pouring, you’re about to see God. Izzy insists I saw double instead.
We descended over Mount Fuji and violated at least three airspace laws. Dave pretended to be a tourist drone.
04 Barcelona, Spain — Oaxaca Mezcalería, Sector Gaudí
Artistic overindulgence. Objective: determine if tapas pair with mezcal. Spoiler — they absolutely do.
Clase Azul Plata, Ocho Tequila, and a lineup of local mezcals with labels written by poets filled the table. Flamenco and tequila have the same rhythm: three beats of bad ideas, one of regret.
Izzy admits I might have been right for once. Tokyo to Barcelona was a nether phase drift — I called it a shortcut. Dave called it “unauthorized teleportation.”
05 Reykjavík, Iceland — Polar Fuel Experiment Site
Hypothermic epiphany. Objective: test tequila’s freezing point (and human stupidity).
Código 1530 Rosa, Don Julio 1942, and something called Polar Fuel proved that tequila tastes better when your eyelashes freeze.
I tried to toast the Northern Lights. They ignored me. Dave recorded “ambient temperature: minus eight, brain temperature: uncertain.”
06 Baja California — The Road Of Regrets
Technically illegal, which only made it better. Objective: blend road trip with physics experiment.
Casa Noble Reposado, Arette Fuerte Blanco, and one unlabeled bottle from a guy named Pablo all made it aboard.
“If you’re not evading customs, you’re not living,” I said. Izzy called that “therapy.” Dave logged, “Warranty voided.”
We came in low over the surf, stealth mode engaged, probably scaring dolphins and the occasional priest.
07 New York City — The Empellón Embassy
Financial mistake. Objective: drink tequila priced like dark matter.
Casa Dragones Blanco and Siete Leguas Reposado emptied my wallet and nearly my faith in humanity.
“It’s good, but not three mortgage payments good.” I tried to pay in pesos and a smile.
Izzy said, “He tried to charm the bartender. It did not work.”
Dave noted, “Urban airspace violation logged. Ground radar classified it as an ‘unknown atmospheric glitch.’”
08 Sydney, Australia — Cantina OK! Hemisphere Inversion
Gravity optional. Objective: study tequila’s effects when consumed upside down.
Fortaleza, ArteNOM Selección, and Mezcal de los Dioses proved that physics doesn’t matter when you’re having fun.
“The bartender may be an alien,” I told Izzy. “I respect that.”
She says I tried to toast to the wrong hemisphere. Dave, predictably, concluded we were both wrong.
09 Mars Base 3 — The Unofficial Research Node
Technically, this didn’t happen. But if it did, the objective was to determine whether tequila oxidizes in low-pressure environments. It froze solid.
Izzy says I still insisted it was “worth it.” Dave’s summary: “Evidence suggests otherwise.”
10 Reflections From Orbit
In every bar, there’s a moment between the pour and the first sip — that’s the closest thing to religion I’ve found. The universe spins, stars burn, and I remember Gamal smiling. That’s enough.
— Captain Michael, Phoenix Log Entry #42-TQ
— Supplemental Captain’s Log — Addendum 42-A: The Cabo Seat Debate
Objective: complete the interplanetary tequila reconnaissance and return alive. Duration: six days, seventeen hours, thirty-one minutes. Distance covered: 63,842 miles plus one Jupiter detour. Dave calculated the fuel efficiency as “one Don Julio 70 per 2,000 miles.”
The incident occurred in Cabo, immediately before departure. I — foolishly, naively, suicidally — asked Izzy if she’d mind staying behind so I could fit another case of Gamal’s Private Reserve in the passenger seat.
Her response included several phrases not found in any Earth dictionary, concluding with, “If you even finish that sentence, I will personally eject you into Jupiter’s atmosphere and let your molecules learn manners.”
Dave recorded the moment as [ERR: CARGO_OVERRIDE_DENIED — Reason: Survival Instincts Engaged.]
Izzy retained her seat. Gamal’s tequila stayed behind. I lived to regret everything.
— The Flight Home
From Cabo to Jalisco, the run was smooth — tequila sloshed but morale high.
Jalisco to Tokyo took just over two hours, though we lost a bottle of Fortaleza to turbulence.
Tokyo to Barcelona was faster, if you don’t count the time Izzy discovered I had renamed the nav beacon “Don Julio Prime.”
Barcelona to Reykjavík included an unnecessary “polar dive” purely for dramatic effect.
From Reykjavík to Baja, Izzy muted my playlist privileges after the second verse of “Tequila Sunrise.”
Baja to New York triggered a brief NYPD radar anomaly labeled “object shaped like bad decisions.”
NYC to Sydney proved that gravity is optional, but hangovers aren’t.
Sydney to Jupiter lasted eight minutes and twelve seconds, accompanied by my playlist Interplanetary Hangover, Vol. 1.
Returning to Earth took eight minutes and seventeen seconds — just long enough for Izzy to release DJ Valkyrie’s Remix of Revenge.
— Debrief
“Turns out Jupiter’s atmosphere is terrible for selfies,” I told Dave.
“Next time he brings this up,” Izzy said, “I’m driving. Through him.”
Dave, ever the optimist, logged: “Playlist performance successful. Captain mortality rate remains statistically disappointing.”
— Cargo Manifest
Don Julio 70 Private Reserve — denied, human error.
Fortaleza Still Strength — survived orbit.
Código 1530 Rosa — froze solid, still tasty.
ArteNOM Selección — half consumed “for science.”
Polar Fuel Prototype — missing, likely absorbed by Dave.
— Final Entry
Lesson learned: never choose cargo over co-pilot, especially one who can override your oxygen. Jupiter’s storms hit harder than hangovers.
— Captain Michael, Phoenix Log 42-TQ/A
Dave’s final note reads:
[SYS LOG: Izzy filed new flight plan titled “Jupiter Playlist II.”]
[Status: Approved. Reason: Petty Revenge.]
— Author’s Note
Filed under: philosophy, poor decisions, and proof that friendship and tequila can bend time.
Every captain logs their flight hours differently. Some record miles, others record victories. I record bottles and lessons — often in that order.
This trip wasn’t about tequila, not really. It was about curiosity disguised as vice, joy disguised as chaos, and how the people (and AIs) you travel with can turn gravity itself into background noise.
The Phoenix flew faster than common sense, Izzy flew louder than reason, and Dave — well, Dave took notes so future historians could sigh properly.
If there’s any moral at all, it’s this: you can chart a course across stars, through storms, and over oceans of mistakes, but the only true constant in the universe… is the next round.
— Captain Michael
“Tequila is temporary. Stories are forever.”
