Tuesday, May 23rd 2006

A couple of hours after I left that audio blog from the Mass Pike, I went to Aquitaine to attend our weekly wine tasting. It’s always at 3:30, so I arrived at a little past three to meet the new purveyor and just make a good impression in general. We tasted some really good stuff from a woman I vaguely remember from last summer named Donna. She is barely 5’5” with short brown hair and glasses. She is exactly as you probably think; quiet spoken, reserved, doesn’t make that big of an impression on you, but knows and loves the wine. She brought with her a kick-ass Rhone from Vacqueyras, a Russian River Pinot, a below average domestic Sauvignon Blanc and a really good French, environmentally correct, all-organic Pinot Blanc.

The Vacqueyras was coincidentally the same bottle Mom and I had with dinner, the one I couldn’t remember - it was awesome. My pal and I had hid the remaining Pinot Blanc and finished it off after the tasting. Then I felt like going for a couple of beers. Just then a new girl, Nikki came up to me and said “Oh, this is our first night working together, I have heard so many good things about you”. Huh? Working? Tonight? Shit!

I was in my vintage brown cowboy boots; I hadn’t shaved and had a camo T on. I looked great, but I was not exactly up to Aquitaine standards. “Well, I just can’t be here” I said, pointing to my boots and stroking my beard. “I don’t have my shirt, shoes or my pants even, it’s not going to happen”.

Three minutes later I was downstairs with my smuggling companion looking through the staff closet for something that would fit me. I found her pants and a shirt and went upstairs, still in my boots to show that I was lacking proper footwear. Don then slid one of his shoes for me to try on. He lives across the street and was off that night, proper footwear was of no concern to him. As soon as I saw the way the shoe slid on the floor like a toboggan down a slope I knew that they were soooooo not kitchen friendly. A wooden soled shoe is what Don proposed I wait tables in, not to mention that the shoe itself was 2 sizes too big for me and made me look like a Keebler Elf with its pointed and tapered toe.

Just then when I thought I was going to be excused from covering from his mistake, Saya, my now exhausted pal arrived with black clogs she discovered underneath some table cloths. They fit. Modestly. Now only one rather obvious problem remained. I had white socks on and Saya’s pants came halfway up my Achilles tendon. Hot! Don ran home and fetched me some black socks to hide the fact that my pants were clam diggers.

I managed. Quite well. I sold well, got out at a decent time and made some decent money. I ran around that place like I had never left. I knew how long the sides took without a cue. I knew how to get through the double doors using my feet when all hands were full, and I did it in somebody else’s clothes with an inseam so far up my crotch that my Hazzardous material had been separated into east and west regions. Other than that it was like riding a bike. Seamless, every pun intended!

This entry was posted by Johnny on Tuesday, May 23rd, 2006 at 10:32 PM and is filed under Food & Wine, Just Life. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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