Wine Buffet is this ancient Josean tradition where you give some fancy pants restaurant $25 and they let you drink as much not-bad-for-Korea wine as you can in four hours, along with food that passes for an actual dinner. I generally try to go the Friday after payday (any Friday, really), but that was last Thursday and I still haven't noticed any new deposits in my account. That might have ruled out a trip tomorrow were I anyone else but hahahahahahahahahahaha, savings. I'm going tomorrow and maybe the next day too just because I can.
But wine whine blah blah why'n. Making plans with friends to go tomorrow has caused me to reflect back on the seminal moments of my life related to wine. Chronological order:
Franzia - My sister and I would be thirsty on occasion and, being youngins, would root through the fridge looking for something sweet. Our choices were cheap beer, cheap tequila and, uh, cheap? Franzia. Had we been 12 yet - the age when everyone in Eugene begins furiously drinking - we wouldn't have begged money off one of our mum's loser boyfriends for generic Cokes at the convenie since we could have had our sugar rush that way.
Mad Dog 20/20 - Friday night halfway through freshman year and I was looking for something - ANYTHING - with a name other than 5 o'clock. Bottles with make-believe Russian names were no va as well. Saw some Ypsi hobo propped up against a wall, asked what he was drinking, found out it only cost a dollar, and then bought two. Only finished one, and that's because I took three drinks before dumping the rest out.
Haha, joking. That was actually my second go with the Mad Dog. The real first time was during orientation when I somehow ended up in this girl's room with a bottle of strawberry banana 20/20 hooch. I didn't want to drink it so she called me a pussy because that's something you say in Michigan even though she was from Ohio. Not sure if I finished the bottle but am sure we ended up together on a plane to Paris two years later. (I just googled her: she's a middle school principal?)
Mary Louise and her seven sisters Mary - Hmm, it's only now that I'm writing this do I realize this girl I met in my sophomore poetry class looked a lot like the purtier half of Sasha. Sasha, though, is an only child, whereas my poetry friend had seven sisters, all named Mary. She was also named Mary, so I won't bother telling you this story has an ending. But before the ending she came over to my dorm one Sunday night because I'd promised to cook her dinner. Jeonsa as I was and still am, I bought a half-pound of chicken - on sale! - and gave my friend $5 to buy a bottle of red wine to...use for cooking? There was still enough left for us to drink out of coffee cups, but after graciously picking through the kidney-looking thing on her plate she excused herself to go watch the second half of the Super Bowl. The Super Bowl really was on, so it's not like she was giving me some half-assed excuse about washing her hair or something. And we didn't really see each other afterward. But the Super Bowl really was on, and she probably went home to watch it, so cool on me.
Bacharach, Germany - After finishing university I moved to Europe for like a month. I didn't have a home but I did have a Eurail pass, which meant I was a real European because I rode the train everywhere as well as lived in Europe, out of a backpack. One night I found myself staying in this luxurious castle...
...that was really just a youth hostel. Was going to order a beer at the hostel bar but in a fit of banal poetry had a wine instead because "I was born 20 miles from here, dammit!" JFC I hate myself sometimes. But I did love that glass of wine - mostly because it wasn't hooch - and decided I should drink more of it when I moved back stateside. Stupid azz return flights.
Main Street Party Store in Ann Arbor, Michigan - Ja, this place. Something nice was always on sale for ~$10, so I'd buy it, ride my bike home, read some third-hand book on wine, and spend four glasses trying to figure out the flavors and all that other boutique fluff that goes with proper stemware. My dear friends Kristi and Nate - Parents! - were also getting into wine at the time so sometimes we got sloshed I mean worked out proper pairings together. Think we were all getting pretty decent but then I went to Africa and started drinking something so offensive you had to mix it with Coke and call it punyapunya. Now I drink whatever you put in front of me, though not before swirling it around and pretending like I know how to pronounce sommelier.
While in Africa I hitchhiked down to Cape Town to meet up with Nate and Kristi. From there we putted around Stellenbosch, which looks like this:
I mean this:
I bought like two bottles of wine and Nate and Kristi bought 400. I think they still had some bottles left when I was visiting for Christmas three years later.
Oregon wineries - One summer in between classes I moved back to Eugene to hang out with my brother. My sister and her boyfriend flew out for a visit and we went driving through Lorane Valley doing wine tastings. Around the third stop my sister and I looked at our brother and asked if he could drive. He was 10.
Last summer we were together in Oregon again and right back at the wineries. Our brother wasn't with us for this tour but were he we would have looked at him just the same and asked if he could drive. This time his excuse would have been no driver's license even though he's 19 now.
3 North Vines - Kristi and Nate have drunk so much wine they eventually figured out it would be much cheaper to just start their own winery instead of continuing to buy whatever's on sale at the Kroger. Here's what their spot looks like if you're a bald eagle who loves freedom:
And what it looks like if you're the same bald eagle waking up at 9.00 am the morning after a few too many wines.
Okay, that's enough blah blah sorry you're so bored blah. I'm going to have a whiskey now.
