In an older post I mentioned that there was nothing more fun than drinking on wheels. Welllll…I lied. After my wonderful weekend, I recently remembered that there is: drinking on a tube, floating down the river.

I promise this whole blog isn’t going to turn into a Dr. Seuss-esque “I would take shots on a plane, I would take shots on a train…” series (that IS how it goes, yeah? Hmm…maybe that’s more a prescription you’d get from Dr. Dre), but I couldn’t resist one more post about my new favorite way to kick back and keep cool this summer—floating the Comal.

Now keep in mind, the river is a trap of sorts, so that’s all the more reason to check yourself before you wreck yourself. There was one instance a few years ago when a behind-the-bush cop confronted one of my friends, clutching her (disgusting) grape-flavored Joose (do those even still exist?), and demanded identification. Had she been wise, she would’ve used the obvious excuse: “I’m wearing a bikini, sir. Where the HELL would I put my I.D.?!” (Or you know, wiser still, just not been drinking while underage.)But instead, being the young, naïve and authority-fearing 20-year-old that she was, she surrendered her true age to the present po-po. After which, all her friends vehemently insisted they were 21. Then while they, the lying hooligans, were allowed to float on in peace, it was her, the honest and obedient good citizen, that was punished.

Now fortunately she evaded an MIP, but she did suffer—still bikini-clad, mind you—an embarrassing march through the surrounding campsites and the humiliation of having to dump out the rest of her apparently illegal (who knew?!) beverage. There was also the joy she got from hearing him call and leave a message for her mother, who was currently occupied taking pictures of the younger, wholesome and now favorite child as he prepared to embark on his senior prom:

“Excuse me ma’am,” he sneered into the phone. “I just wanted to let you know that I just caught your daughter drinking illegally and engaging on shenanigans on the river. Please call me back immediately.”

One of her mom’s favorite voicemails ever, I’m sure.

But now that she and the rest of our friends are in our post-21 glory days (daze), everyone can Modest Mouse it and allllll float onnnnn alriiiiight. And lemme tell you, it’s a freaking BLAST. All you need are a few friends (hopefully THAT’s not a problem), a tube (they’re conveniently available in a deluxe version with mesh bottom and backrest at a Walmart near the river, already inflated, for around $13), a designated driver (for real) and, most importantly and obviously, a fully-stocked cooler.

Once you’ve gathered your necessary supplies (sunscreen is also recommended, my peeling shoulders and chest would like to remind you), then find parking. Now this is easier said than done so there’s also the option of, in a seemingly legitimate and I’m sure completely safe manner, pulling on up onto the front yard of riverside property-owners-turned-entrepreneurs and handing some cash over to some totally trustworthy group of guys in wifebeaters on lawn chairs. (Cheers to my new best friend Isaac. I can’t even be pissed you charge $15 for parking—that’s just good business—but I am a tad bothered you rejected the shot I offered you.)

Now entrance to the river is a bit tricky. I personally was navigating the mossy steps, tube and beer in hand to get into the water, when I heard “Hey, be careful! It’s slipp—“

Well, I’m assuming homeboy was yelling that it was slippery, but by then I’d already tumbled down in front of the hundreds of floaters that crowded the river tube-to-tube, flat on my tailbone. Now it’s not that I’d been drinking (okay, maybe I was walking around Walmart with a bottle of vodka water I mixed in the bathroom—it’s so damn easily camouflaged that I couldn’t help it), but those stairs are just really effing slimy. So there I sat, dismayed and ashamed, telltale bottle in hand… for about 4 seconds before reminding myself that, knowing my track record and the scars that cover my legs, really people would be more shocked if I hadn’t fallen.

But despite the difficult dismount (which is actually hilarious when you’re watching people attempt it), once you get into the water, it’s pure bliss. It’s all the joys of the outdoors combined with sipping a cold one and scouting out the…uhh…potential (it’s so easy to have proper judgment when everyone is in bathing suits, with everything on display). Just attach a tube with your cooler. (And be sure to ATTACH IT. Really, there’s not a sight more tragic than someone frantically swimming as their Keystone-stocked Igloo escapes downstream…it’s like when Bambi’s mom gets shot—brings a tear to my eye every time.) Then kick back and let the river take you along for about two fun—and surely ridiculous—hours.

Now let it be known that if your idea of drinking is relaxing in civilized, well-lit and classy situations, where the music softly plays in the background, everything smells of mahogany and the champagne that’s not from 7/11 flows freely, then the river miiiiiight not be the best choice for you. There’s screaming, shot-gunning, a surprisingly high amount of girl-on-girl action and, à la Mardi Gras, a lot of babes flashing for beads. It’s literally a crazy party the water, and the great part is that if you tire of the crowd you can just paddle a ways down and join an entire new one. (Hmm… I think I actually just persuaded all of you to drive down this weekend.) Also a priority to keep in mind is making sure your cooler is fully-stocked, because as you float and everyone gets more and more belligerent, supply-and-demand comes in and the bartering-for-beer stakes get higher and higher. You never think you’ll see the day someone is willing to do such unmentionable things for a Natty Light until you’re halfway down a float and someone’s well runs dry. Besides beer, mixed drinks in an empty milk jug are a total winner on the river, and let it be known that Jello shots—no matter the time or place— are always a surefire hit. (See my jello shot post for tips). But keep in mind that no one likes floating past depressingly empty cans and plastic cups, so be sure to clean up after yourselves, my little lushes. Littering isn’t cool.

And what to do after you float (besides hydrate)? Grab your tube and re-stock the cooler, re-slather yourself and hell—do it again.

Oh, and as always, sip safely my friends.