My impression of the hipster wine tasting event was not quite initially horror, but I did carry some doubts. The very first person to greet us in the evening was a woman posing as a parking attendant, even though the parking was ostensibly free. I have been the victim of this particularly ingenious scam on several occasions. Two instances come to mind: the cross-country trip I took with a drip to visit Graceland and the horrid art show several years back. But Im not really in the mood to revisit those now.
Marie and I arrived there on time, and thus had some decent people-watching seats. As more people began to spill in, I was confronted with a couple that obviously wanted to sit together, so I was kind enough to move. Then a few minutes later, their horrid friend asked me to move again, to which I initially agreed, but then declined. After all, I already moved once. Why on earth should I sacrifice my comfort for a stranger?
The wines were OK, though I spat or dumped most of my glasses in the spittoon. One of the spokespeople for the event was a man who looked and sounded just like a younger Robin Leach, and he was speaking at great length about random curry houses around the world and quizzing the guests on wine/India trivia. The trio next to us mushroomed into a full-fledged birthday party populated with the kinds of people who use their cell phones as mini flashlights. They won a hideous lamp after answering a multiple-choice trivia question, which they answered correctly as a complete fluke. Other prizes included more atrocious lamps, posters that would otherwise be given away free anywhere else, and a black-and-white television that evidently only played channel 7.
There were far more couples than I initially anticipated. In fact, it appeared as though the event was comprised entirely of daters. This I did not mind terribly, as it afforded me good people-watching.
Then things began to take a turn for the strange. The wine tasting morphed into an after-party for Dig!, and all the people suddenly became younger versions of themselves. Going inside, I was greeted by a perfectly friendly-looking bald guy with glasses who reminded me very much of someone I once knew. He tugged at my sleeve and mouthed the words, I like you. It was either that or thank you. But I honestly couldnt fathom why a stranger would say either of those things to me, so I just smiled and made my way to the bar.
I realized I had one dollar to my name, so I hit Marie up for some cash to buy myself a drink. She disappeared to the bathroom after giving me seven bucks, and I ordered a beer. I gave the guy $6. Two minutes later, he comes back and gives me $17. Now, it was busy, and although he gave me the money, I knew it was a mistake. So, I looked around, searching for the person to whom the money could belong. My honest conscience remained steadfast, and I slid the money back to the bartender, figuring he would eventually give the change to the rightful owner. At this point Marie returned, and I told her that I thought the bartender was crazy. She laughed and said he just put the money right beside my drink again. Fuck it, I thought. Ill take what the drink cost me and give the bartender the rest. He thanked me profusely, I paid back Marie, and I left in a daze wondering how it was that I got paid for a drink.
Outside again, smoking, I found myself seated next to the bald guy. I realized that the birthday party had left their unsightly prize lamp, so I thought Id be nice and give it to the gentleman who told me he liked meor who thanked me. Heres a beautiful lamp for you, I said, and he seemed pleasantly surprised, albeit slightly confounded. Only once I ventured back in did I realize that baldy was still inside, grinning at me. I randomly gave away somebody elses lamp to the wrong guy.
Only two more cigarettes and I would be out of there. I was down to my very last when a swarthy man asked me for a spare. Nobody ever has spare cigarettes, but I especially didnt. I watched him for another 15 minutes looking in vain for that cigarette. Then I listened to the bands for a while. They were good, but it was getting crowded, and I was nodding off. I wrote off baldy, thinking he was crazy, too. Then we left stealthily, successfully dodging the parking-scam lady on our way out.
Marie and I arrived there on time, and thus had some decent people-watching seats. As more people began to spill in, I was confronted with a couple that obviously wanted to sit together, so I was kind enough to move. Then a few minutes later, their horrid friend asked me to move again, to which I initially agreed, but then declined. After all, I already moved once. Why on earth should I sacrifice my comfort for a stranger?
The wines were OK, though I spat or dumped most of my glasses in the spittoon. One of the spokespeople for the event was a man who looked and sounded just like a younger Robin Leach, and he was speaking at great length about random curry houses around the world and quizzing the guests on wine/India trivia. The trio next to us mushroomed into a full-fledged birthday party populated with the kinds of people who use their cell phones as mini flashlights. They won a hideous lamp after answering a multiple-choice trivia question, which they answered correctly as a complete fluke. Other prizes included more atrocious lamps, posters that would otherwise be given away free anywhere else, and a black-and-white television that evidently only played channel 7.
There were far more couples than I initially anticipated. In fact, it appeared as though the event was comprised entirely of daters. This I did not mind terribly, as it afforded me good people-watching.
Then things began to take a turn for the strange. The wine tasting morphed into an after-party for Dig!, and all the people suddenly became younger versions of themselves. Going inside, I was greeted by a perfectly friendly-looking bald guy with glasses who reminded me very much of someone I once knew. He tugged at my sleeve and mouthed the words, I like you. It was either that or thank you. But I honestly couldnt fathom why a stranger would say either of those things to me, so I just smiled and made my way to the bar.
I realized I had one dollar to my name, so I hit Marie up for some cash to buy myself a drink. She disappeared to the bathroom after giving me seven bucks, and I ordered a beer. I gave the guy $6. Two minutes later, he comes back and gives me $17. Now, it was busy, and although he gave me the money, I knew it was a mistake. So, I looked around, searching for the person to whom the money could belong. My honest conscience remained steadfast, and I slid the money back to the bartender, figuring he would eventually give the change to the rightful owner. At this point Marie returned, and I told her that I thought the bartender was crazy. She laughed and said he just put the money right beside my drink again. Fuck it, I thought. Ill take what the drink cost me and give the bartender the rest. He thanked me profusely, I paid back Marie, and I left in a daze wondering how it was that I got paid for a drink.
Outside again, smoking, I found myself seated next to the bald guy. I realized that the birthday party had left their unsightly prize lamp, so I thought Id be nice and give it to the gentleman who told me he liked meor who thanked me. Heres a beautiful lamp for you, I said, and he seemed pleasantly surprised, albeit slightly confounded. Only once I ventured back in did I realize that baldy was still inside, grinning at me. I randomly gave away somebody elses lamp to the wrong guy.
Only two more cigarettes and I would be out of there. I was down to my very last when a swarthy man asked me for a spare. Nobody ever has spare cigarettes, but I especially didnt. I watched him for another 15 minutes looking in vain for that cigarette. Then I listened to the bands for a while. They were good, but it was getting crowded, and I was nodding off. I wrote off baldy, thinking he was crazy, too. Then we left stealthily, successfully dodging the parking-scam lady on our way out.
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Happy Tuesday