The Bottle

Yes, it's true, faith and world order are restored, everything will be all right.

On Saturday 4/11/09, we had just dined a fine dismal dinner at Casa Bonita and we were returning to Pops & Betsy's digs when Wifey says we should get him some wine. After missing many Liquor stores on Wadsworth, Sis-in-law yelled, "Liquor store on the right, pull in!". I pulled hard right into a store which looked awful dismal at first. As always after a look through what we needed, wine, I ambled to the Whisky section, The Single Malts, - that is, and there they had your regular fare of fair malts.

But there in the back there was a single, lone box with a purple strip across: 18 Years Old it said; Distilled 1976, it said underneath. And as I grabbed it faithlessly to see if it was "it", the Asian owner came and made sure I would not drop The Bottle. "That's a very expensive bottle," he said, "been here very very long time".

I bet. It was way cheaper than I thought it should have cost, which got me thinking that there was something wrong with The Bottle. (Price censored to protect the guilty and ignorati).

We skedaddled with our wines. At Pops' excellent abode I immediately jumped online and "researched" The Bottle. Sure enough, it was the real Mccoy; it was an 18 year old Sherry Oak Cask aged Single Highland Malt Scotch Whisky, distilled in 1976, bottled in 1994 and prior to Macallan's sherry oak cask shortage fiasco. This was a goodie!

I had to have The Bottle.

But how? The store was closed. Damn Colorado with liquor stores and ridiculous prohibition-age lifestyle grumble grumble... And of course the next day was Easter Sunday; one would need to raise the dead before liquor stores opened on that day! And I was traveling back to California that day.

No problem. The Bottle had been there "for a very very long time". Clearly nobody in Wheat Ridge or Arvada knew a Macallan from a PBR ("The PBR" is slightly cheaper than this bottle) and this bottle sat lonely on a shelf for some years. It was pretty dusty.

I wanted The Bottle.

I NEEDED The Bottle.

I left town without The Bottle.

For two days I could think of nothing but The Bottle. I messed with taxes, I thought of The Bottle. I drank my dwindling supply of The Previous Bottle, I thought of The Bottle.

The Bottle.

In came Wifey & Pops to the rescue. Lord, I knew there was a reason for marriage, family, diapers, teenagers and hybrid cars! Pops went out and found The Bottle and Wifelet dearly escorted it back to Los Angeles today.

Dear, dear Wifelet!

I have The Bottle.

I opened The Bottle.

I let it breathe a couple of minutes as I read the labels and admired its rich rosewood tint.

Then Wifelet and I sipped it. Slowly. Deliberately.

And there was light.

I'm no elite single malt illuminati, but it does not take one to know the difference between The Whisky, and regular Joe whisky. This explodes supernova in taste, depth, variety, hues and sexy hints. Compared to this regular scotch is like listening to a symphony through a telephone. You know how much I love the phone...

With deep appreciation and gratitude to my Wifelet, Sis-in-law, Pops and providence, there shall be wide spectrum light for the next four score and many forthnights.

I love you all.