Blue Agave’s 12th Anniversary Peeps

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“What wouldn’t Jesus do?” A tricky question, posed to me last Saturday afternoon at the Sea Landing, via an engraving on a rapidly emptying flask of Cazadores being passed around a crew of peeps waiting to board the Condor Express for the Blue Agave’s Toast to 12 Years Sunset Cruise. Surely Jesus wouldn’t waste such an exceptional libation, and neither would Travis Manach, inspired to share the liquid joy after hearing the announcement that no outside alcohol would be allowed onboard.

Tequila-warmed, I reflected. When the invite to this affair arrived several weeks ago, I had an immediate couple of thoughts: (1) Blue Agave — fun! I’m hungry. Steak tacos. No, mole enchiladas. No, fish stew … (2) Sunset Cruise — fun! I hope the weather’s okay. What should I wear? (3) Twelve Years — random …

But the more I thought about that last one, the more I decided I kinda loved it. Life is short. Why wait for a round number to celebrate something worth celebrating? And the Blue Agave is most certainly worth celebrating — it’s been a fixture in my own life almost as long as it’s been a fixture downtown. I remember ducking inside for a nightcap while waiting for Bill’s Bus to arrive to ferry me back to I.V.; then, years later, discovering the Agave is actually one of the most consistently outstanding restaurants in town (not to mention that my I.V.-influenced antics in such a fine establishment were likely unappreciated, and undoubtedly wildly inappropriate). Personal warm-fuzzies aside, the spot itself is pretty incredible. It’s inviting, cozy, and rich with history and the energy of its ghosts: Legend has it that the building, a former stable dating back to the 1800s, even logged some time as a brothel. (I always wondered what the story was with that shower in the upstairs bathroom.)

Anyway, soon enough, boarding on the boat began — a well-orchestrated procession that funneled everyone through the bar and deposited them on the other side, margaritas in hand — and those of us who hadn’t gotten acquainted on the dock over the communal hooch proceeded to do so. We took off, cruising out of the harbor past what appeared to be a fleet of sailing students, and DJ Magneto got down to business. Ogling the shockingly beautiful November afternoon and the always ogle-worthy coastline with staff, friends, and fiends for the Agave with one of my best pals, it was impossible not to have an amazing time, to appreciate the day for what it was: a non-golden anniversary that couldn’t be more worth celebrating.

And so, when we ran out of margaritas before heading back to shore, I thought of Travis and his Jesus flask. Jesus wouldn’t have complained, and neither did we. Sure, He-with-a-capital-H might have rocked some sort of loaves-and-fishes-type magic and refilled all our glasses with Agave-given refreshment, but this crew, being firmly and happily in this moment 12 years in the making, just moved on to vodka.

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