Back in college, alcohol was a dilemma: You needed it to get things flowing (parties, parties of two, etc.) but it tasted like crap. Beer was awful, wine was nothing more than cough syrup gone bad and hard liquor was at best toxic. So, what changed between then and now? Cash flow. Once I had a real job I could afford better than free cases of Old Millwater, Whitehouse vodka and well, whatever skunked wine we could steal without my parents noticing. In fact, since my undergraduate days, I've become quite the connoisseur of finer beers and liquors.
A couple days after Valentine's Day I came home from work to find a registered mail notification. My experience told me that registered mail brings bad portents. However, it was something that had to be handled, so the next day I left work a little early to stop at the post office. I opened the letter in the car, read it, re-read it, and read it one more time just to be sure. My divorce was final. In fact, it was signed by the judge three days ago, February 14th, Valentine's Day. Irony was alive and well. Of course, this convergence of happenstance had to be shared. For the next two hours, I was on the phone with a dozen or so friends laughing. I spoke with college roommates, drinking buddies and even a few clients. It was the last client call that was the most memorable.
Shannon was a brash red-head a few years older than me who believe that anything you really wanted was worth purchasing. She worked hard to attain her successful career, planned well for a stunning house, and put great effort into making herself a better person. For her, this was most often accompanied by assertiveness.
When I was going through my divorce, she set me straight on quite a few matters. From not shouldering the full blame for the divorce to paring back my willingness to help my ex, she really did guide me towards a healthier lifestyle. And, this night was no different.
"Congratufuckinglations. So, what are you going to do about it?" She asked.
"I don't know. I'm probably going to the gym, then I'll stop in on my parents for a bit." I said lamely. In an attempt to save face, I added, "Tomorrow night, I am heading out with some friends?"
"OK, you" she deliberately stressed the second word, "need to let loose and celebrate. I'm taking you out to dinner. Do you know that brewpub near work? I'll meet you there in an hour and a half."
"Oh great." I thought. There goes my nice quite night. But you can't turn down a client.
I cleaned up, finished the load of laundry I had started, skipped the gym and arrived at the pub to find her waiting with a table. She held out a beer menu and said, "The list's not bad tonight. They brew their own. No preservatives, so you have to get it fresh." It is also a bit on the heavy side. Heavy beer has more alcohol. I knew I had to watch what I drank.
The meal was very good and the conversation fantastic. She really was an impressive individual. Smart, funny, confident and, of course, opinionated. She was pontificating on the virtues of rum and Diet Coke. I had to remind her that this place was her choice and she knew ahead of time that they only had beer.
"I know that, I am just saying that if you really want to be social, you have to drink hard liquor."
Now, I liked my brand of vodka. Other vodkas were just not acceptable. At the time there were only a half dozen brands that I would drink and most of those would only be used for mixing. I guess you can say that I was (and still am) a bit snobbish when it comes to this topic. "OK, that is great, but there isn't much we can do about it here."
"We are going somewhere else after dinner, right?"
"You don't mean dancing, do you?" Silently praying she didn't.
