First Glass of Wine 2011

My New Year's Eve ended with a glass of Johnny Walker Black in my hand. I had one sip and threw the rest in the sink. It was 5am and I was glad that the winter night still had another hour in his blood.

The greater part of January 1 was spent licking my wounds. My body doesn't snap back into shape at 58 like it did when I was 23 or 34 or 53. My mind was sharp enough to read A LIFE by the Rolling Stones' Keith Richards without any urge to consume drugs or drink. The devil was in hiding and I went to sleep relatively sober, although I doubted that I could pass a breathalyzer test, then again no one was asking me to operate any heavy machinery this early in the year.

Jan 2 offered gray skies over Fort Greene. My good friend Andrew called from Millbrook.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better than yesterday. Have you had drink yet?" I imagined the stuttering Englishman in a fluffy robe by a fireplace with his wife and lovely daughter.

"Finished off t-t-three bottles of red yesterday. W-w-w-what about you?"

"Been living like a Taliban." I have a stutter too and his wife says our conversations are like the battle of two stuck records.

"T-t-th-that's no good." Andrew was English. They like their drink. A nation that will never surrender to Al-Quada. "Did you say t-t-that you never want to drink again?"

"No, it wasn't t-t-that bad." His stuttering was infectious. "I'll drink later."

"Don't disappoint me."

"Disappoint him'.

I'm not a poster boy for THE SAVE THE WINOS campaign. I was stronger than the grape, but as I was walking by the Green Grape on Fulton I found myself pulled into the wine store by the magnetism of the pretty bottles. I picked out a Riesling. One liter - $12. I could already taste the cheapness of its season, however the clerk was tearing off the wrapping of a bottle of

champagne.

French.

"I'm working alone. Care to join me in a glass?" Earl was tattooed to his jaw. 27 years-old. Young but old at the same time. I was friendly with the entire staff of the Green Grape. My name was James Steele on their computer. They read my short stories. Earl was a fan

"Who am I to say no?" The bubbles rolled down my gullet. It only takes seven seconds for anything to reach your stomach. The burn of alcohol was all too familiar. I thanked Earl and headed home with the first taste of wine on my tongue.

In vino veritas - Pliny the Elder

In more wine more truth - James Steele