Take it

You decide that there's no point in letting it sit when you're thirsty. Besides, it's not like one shot will make you drunk, now is it?
You down it, slamming the shot glass on the bar, causing the dust there to rise up in a large puff cloud. You cough, the whiskey burning your throat and nose, then inhale the dust and cough again.
You step back, thinking, damn that shit's strong! But you feel better, having taken in liquids for the first time in hours.
You look around the room, wondering if your reaction was the type of reaction the cowboys of the past would have had. You smile at that idea.
Then, the room becomes oddly surreal, like an impressionist painting of an old west saloon instead of the real thing. You stagger backward, groping for a talbe or chair to steady yourself, then fall to the floor, dust rising around you in a cloud.
The world above you spins, then you pass out entirely.
The next thing you know, you can hear the distant sound of a piano, then the sounds of several rowdy good ole boy type all around you. You open your eyes a little, and see the ceiling of the old saloon again. several heads, adorning cowboy hats, look down at you, some concerned, but most of them grinning.
"Can't hold his liquor!" One shouts, laughing.
"Is he alright, Elmer?" A female's voice then.
"Yeah, he's alright," the man replies, walking away as others grip your arms and pull you to your feet. "Just took that last shot a little too hard, that's all."
"Where am I?" You mutter.
"You're in the Vestment Saloon, there son!" On exclaims, slapping you hard on the back. "Here, have another shot on me! Let's see that again!"
Once on your feet, you feel strong enough to stand on your own. You look around at the saloon. The tables and chairs appear new and are dustfree and mostly occupied by other customers, all dressed in what looks to be authentic Old West attire. The bar is perfectly cared for, not warped but appearing to be made of freshly shaped wood. The bartender behind it looks at you oddly.
"Excuse me, there," a man says, "But I need that in your hand there."
The man holds a pool cue and you remember that you're holding the eight ball.
"Oh...sure," you reply, handing it over.
"Much abligied," he replied, and walks back to the pool table.