I’m not a drinker, I hate the taste of alcohol. But, last night I threw caution to the wind and indulged in a small
glass bottle of wine. You know the kind. It was a great vintage, year 2014, strait from the grocery store shelf. I do believe it was the grocery store brand.
There’s nothing like the taste of rubbing alcohol to stimulate the taste buds. I squinted my eyes and took a
small sip big gulp as the tiny hairs on my arm stood at attention and I gasped for air. I banged my fist on the table and rattled my jaws. I figured I needed a chaser. I refrained from that, as I’m not a veteran drinker. I’m certain it would have been an unwise decision.
My tongue was sufficiently numbed so I fried my chicken, sipped my wine, and listened to my favorite jams.
The hideous wine was a far cry from the first Long Island Iced Tea I ever had, I was sitting in a bar at the Holiday Inn in Savannah, Georgia. Of course, that was the last Long Island Iced Tea I ever had. And that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
I pulled up a chair and took a seat at the kitchen table, opened up my PC and began my search for Conway Twitty, Loretta Lynn, Tammy Wynette and Freddy Fender. I’d forgotten all about the way makers of that time. It was an easier, happier time when an air of innocence could still be found. Maybe it was just ignorant bliss. No matter, it was what it was.
I enjoyed myself, immensely and discovered that sometimes we need to fry a little chicken and have a little wine.
Take it away Freddy:
Contrary to the song. I was not wasted.