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November 23, 2004
My Boxer Friend
Last night I drove on down to the liquor store to pick up a box of the wine formerly known as "the Best Tasting Boxed Wine," Peter Vella's Delicious Red. (Sometime over the years he must have been forced to remove the claim, though as boxed wines go, it could very well be the best.)
I like wine, but I'm apparently not much of a connoisseur. I enjoy the box as much as a $9 bottle (that's about as high as I go). The $1 bottle I brought back from a recent trip, however, less than hit the spot. Still, the wine knew its job and didn't get uppity, and for that I respect it.
I bought my tickets for the trip via the American Airlines web site. They've got this option where you can search for the cheapest ticket. Being the kind of guy that buys $1 bottles of wine, I used it.
The trip went something like this. Fly from Baltimore Washington International to Laguardia. Run like hell to catch a bus to JFK. Check in at JFK 30 minutes before take-off and run like hell to the the gate to get on the plane just as they close the door. On the plane relax and wonder what the fuck happened. Oh yeah, it was that damn cheapskate button. Don't do that next time.
I checked the itinerary for the way back and found I flew back through Toronto. I arrived at 9 something and flew out at 9 something. Cool. It's not as fucked up on the way back. Wait. How can I arrive at 9:50 and depart at 9:25? Oh, shit. That's a 12 hour layover.
So I bought a couple bottles of $1 wine with the intent of drinking them during the layover, getting drunk and sleeping it off on a bench in some corner of the airport.
This plan was spoiled, however. Halfway through the first bottle some guy sat next to me and started talking. He extended a large, calloused hand for me to shake and explained that he was an amateur Canadian boxer into interracial dating chatlines. He was headed back to LA where he now lived with his girlfriend who has an "amazing booty." (If you've never heard a Canadian talk about booty you're missing one of life's great, simple pleasures.)
How could I pass this up? I had to talk to this guy. I offered him some wine. He accepted. He told me about glory of interracial dating chatlines, and how even though he found the girl he wanted to be with (the other marriages were just flukes) he still used them. Apparently women were (virtually) all about him, and he thought, since I seemed like such a nice guy, he'd pass a couple my way.
He told me that, then turned to look directly at me saying, "This is the best wine I've ever had." I could barely hold back my laughter, not because the wine was so cheap, but because his lips, teeth, and mouth were all dyed purple.
Posted by calculatoronfire at November 23, 2004 10:31 AM