Item #26 - Go Wine Tasting

"Its the fucking Catalina wine mixer"  -Various
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A random collection of highlights and lowlights to my drinking life that I'm willing to share (every reader on here has probably been involved in at least one, so what the hell, you probably know these stories anyway).

Highlight - Spring Break 1997
I didn't start drinking until spring break of senior year of high school. Partly due to the fear of my mother's wrath (seen Item #17). Partly due to my vast maturity.

Example of maturity being shown on our spring break cruise by me, our school's National Honor Society President

The very first drink I had was some vodka my friend Matt smuggled on board the plane down to New Orleans for our cruise (note: much easier to smuggle liquids on board planes in 1997). We ordered some orange juice and mixed it in. Never having had alcohol before, and not knowing what amount equates to being drunk, I half expect the 1 shot nip to turn me into Helen Hunt on PCP (jump to 1:55. It's delightful). It doesn't.  14 years later and vodka is still my hard liquor of choice, as my "liquor cabinet" consist of 4 varieties of vodka and a half empty bottle of Wild Turkey (it was on special and it came with a free flask. Don't judge me, jerk). 

Lowlight - Spring Break 1997
I went on a spring break cruise with a bunch of guys while my girlfriend at the time Erin headed elsewhere with her gal friends. During the trip, thanks largely to alcohol, I end up cheating on Erin  . . . multiple times . . . with two different girls. It would be the only time(s) I cheat on a girlfriend in my life. I feel bad about it . . . until I learn that she cheated on me too. We laugh, break up amicably, and all is well. 

Ironically, a few years later in college, we would be dating different people and almost ended up drunkenly cheating on our significants at the time with each other. We were this close. THIS close (holding up my pointer finger 2 millimeters from my thumb) . . . but I held back. The lesson had been learned . . . though when I broke up with that girlfriend, I would regret NOT having gone through with the cheating with Erin. New lesson - drink MORE next time?

Highlight - Ann Arbor 1997

My dad comes to Ann Arbor for a Michigan game with his buddy and learns that I drink at college. Not exactly a surprise, but he's perfectly cool with it. We are adult equals.

Lowlight -  Ann Arbor 1997

A bunch of friends and I attend an "around the world" party at a frat that some of our old high school friends are joining. We have no plans to join, but as freshmen, frat parties were always an easy way to get beer. We all get loaded. When the cops eventually show up, my friend Drew almost throws the aforementioned Erin out the window as a means to escape. I leave before that, very inebriated. I head home to the dorm, and head to bed. It's a poor nights sleep as throughout the night, I constantly wake up, feeling sand in my bed.  That morning, I am awoken the sound the of a knock at our door. Walter answers. Its my dad and his buddy. They're earlier than expected, and he sees me laying in bed . . . next to what is apparently a pile of puke I concocted that night (note - dried puke feels like sand). I blame it on Dave, who slept above me in the bunk. Dad . . . doesn't buy it, and simply  says "Rest up. We'll come back."

Highlight - Windsor 1999

Summer of '99. I am 19. My friends are all 19. Canada lets you drink at 19. And having never had a fake ID, we head to Windsor all summer to hit the bars for the first time, over and over and over again. I learn the joy of the Canadian exchange rate (at the time), Molson's, Labatt's, and drinking straight out pitchers of long island iced tea. Classy times are had by all. Alcohol helps me in believing that making out with my English teacher's daughter on the dance floor is a good idea. It also greatly aids in a stoplight make-out session on the way home with one of my best gal friends.

Lowlight - Windsor 2000

I spend my 20th birthday at Woody's in Windsor. I spend the latter half of the night trying to contact my friends inside in the pre-cell phone era after having been kicked out of the bar. I've certainly been worse in bars, and I've certainly been dragged out by friends, but I believe this is the only time I've been asked to leave the bar by the bar itself. 

Highlight - Chicago 2002

A large group of us spend New Year's Eve at a hotel ballroom party sponsored by a radio station. It's an open bar, yet I proudly remain the most sober of any of my friends while still drinking, showing off my will power and ability to enjoy alcohol in moderation. Though this is largely due to . . .

Lowlight - Chicago 2001

A large group of us spend New Year's Eve at a hotel ballroom party sponsored by a radio station. It's an open bar, and wanting the make sure I earn back the $80 it cost to go to the party, I spend the night getting absolutely destroyed. I spend the latter part of the night puking in the bathroom and then puking in the cab ride home . . . at least that's what I'm told by my friends who put up with me. There were several black out nights in college, but they usually ended up with me saying "I don't exactly what happened, but god damn, it was fun." This is the first time I say "I don't exactly know what happened, but I am fucking embarrassed. God damn I need to drink less." I also learn that whenever theres a pay-one-price-for-open-bar event, be it at a bar or a wedding, I need to just stick to beer.

Hightlight - December 2004

A tradition is born. The high school friends decide to get together and play a round of Crazy 40 Hands over Christmas break. A 40 is duct taped to each hand, and they can't be removed until all 80 ounces are gone. It's a race against your bladder, and it's a game where everyone wins! . . . except for the people that take off the 40's early. They're HUGE losers. Anyway, we drank 80 ounces of duct taped malt liquor as 25 year old professionals, and it was fantastic. 

 Not me. Face blurred to protect the innocent working "professional" with an MBA

Lowlight - December 2010

Crazy 40 Hands #7! The tradition continues! Only this time it takes place without the 40's . . . and without the duct tape . . . .and without a mandatory minimum amount of beer to be drunk. Youth . . . . gone. Sigh.

Highlight - April 23, 2011

After being forced into maturity by a lack of 40's and duct taped hands during an annual event called Crazy 40 Hands Day, it's time to start occasionally drinking wine like a big boy. At this point, I can close my eyes and taste the difference between white and red wine. Yes, truly refined. So Saturday I headed to the Boston Wine Riot downtown along with my sister, Ryan, Joy and her friend Kate.  Its basically a 40 table expo, with each table having 2-8 different bottles to taste. It was open for 4 hours, and we got there right as it opened. I was a wine novice, and it was time to learn.

Early on, I did learn. I paid close attention to the presenter's schpeel. I learned what a malbec grape was. I learned why white wine is white. I tasted, or at least tried to taste, the subtle differences between the 6 month aged wine and the 12 month aged wine. I learned that my initial preference of white over red remained true.  My connoisseur-ism grew . . . but not by that much, as my beer taste buds remain vastly more refined than my wine taste buds. 

Midlight - April 23, 2011

After 2 hours, the tastings started to mount up, as the process of learning how to drink wine simply became a process of drinking. I went back to just being able to taste the difference between white and red.  At the 3 hour mark, we all decide its a good idea to get tattoos from the temporary tattoo booth. And of course, I went for the tramp stamp. Stay classy Boston.

Lowlight - April 23, 2011
We decided to stay the whole 4 hours. The next day my sister counted up all the checkbooks in the guide book. We tried 80 wines. Multiply that by the average 1 ounce pour (some were stingy, but by the end, it was an everything-must-go free-for-all), and we're talking about 12+ glasses of wine in 4 hours. My previous rule of only sticking to beer at open bars ended up being a little tough to pull off at a wine expo. Not surprisingly, we were all pretty tipsy as we left. Not stumble and puke tipsy, but rather, loud and obnoxious tipsy. So we decided to head over a few blocks to the theater district and hit a bar - The Tam. This is the outside sign at The Tam.

This is the first review off Google: "cheap drinks, surly funny staff, cheap drinks, easy atmosphere." The Tam is a dive bar by all means. And after a night of wine and sophistication, when I attempted to refine my palette for alcohol . . . . we were denied entry into The Tam for being too drunk. 

Double irony - though it won't be added to the list, being denied entry into a bar was yet another first this year

• 26 of 52 done, but just 5 months left. I'm slipping. It's time for the Summer of George Alan!