Friday, January 26, 2007

Whine and Cigarettes

The other night I went to a swanky party at a high-end restaurant in my city. It was the kind of place where they serve food like you see on Top Chef, with amuse buches and amuse-geules and unamused bony maitre d's who smile pained smiles as they lord over the power of getting you a good table. I arrived in what passed for day-to-evening-wear (which, really, is kind of impossible. My fabulous hipster-librarian clothes and my fabulous party-girl clothes are really not the same thing, regardless of what Rachel Roy is trying to sell us all) and ready to rock. Except, honeys, I was tired. I had worked a full day at the library, and although many of you non-librarians think we are sitting in overstuffed wing-backed chairs and reading novels all day long with cats in our laps, I assure you that library work can kick the crap out of you by the end of the live-long day. Or even in the early part of the live-long day in some cases.

But there I was, ready to go, rocking a black on black ensemble that hopefully was more NYC than Johnny Cash (you know I love the Man in Black but I really don't want to look like him) and said my hellos to the few people I knew and started in on the many that I didn't. First off was cocktail hour. This was definitely a wine and cheese sort of crowd, and there were many reds and whites to choose from, and not much else in the drinky-drink department. I suppose I could have ordered something else, because the last time I had red wine I had formulated quite an opinion on it, but I figured I would just go with what was right there.

I picked up a glass of red off a tray that floated by me, that was attached to a white coated waiter. And I know this will subtract off some of my urban sophisticate points, but you guys. Red wine? It tastes like ass. I'm sorry, but I'm just being real. If Jenny from the Block can be real, then I can too, right? And red wine may as well be toilet water as far as I'm concerned. Please. Just admit this to me. Just between us. The Emperor has no clothes, and red wine is just a way for people to feel like they are the Earl of Fancyland. This opinion of mine may put me on the hit list of Wine International, most of Europe, and Niles Crane wannabes everywhere, but that's my opinion and I'm sticking to it. Red wine tastes like rotten grapes. Go figure.

So I proceeded to walk around with my glass of red and not take a second sip. I didn't even bother to get another drink. I was THAT tired. And after a lovely meal that was more Elia than Marcel (in that there was no foam involved) I excused myself to my friends because I needed to get the hell home and sleep my knickers off. I was the first to leave the party at the witching hour of 9pm. NINE P.M. What is happening to me? This is a crying shame, is all I can tell you.

As I made my way to the door, one of the waiters came up to me. "Do you need help out?" he asked. Help? To leave a party? No thank you. I think I can figure out how to ride in an elevator and then find the front door. "Please, allow me." He punches the "down" button on the elevator. Ok, great. Thanks for sparing my finger the effort of button-pushing. I am tired enough to actually appreciate this courtesy. When the door opens, I get in, and...he gets in too. He then pushes the L-for-lobby button. "No, really, you don't need to walk me out," I insist. "It's my pleasure, was your dinner this evening?" As we chat pleasantly in the elevator, here is my inner monologue. "This place really is swanky. They actually escort you right out the door? Unless this guy's just doing this to hit on me. But he called me 'miss.' Such a formal word. If he was trying to be social, then wouldn't he loosen up a little?"

As we walked out of the elevator and out the front door, he did loosen up. He got his loose on, in fact. As we stood there on the sidewalk, he said, " you want to hang out for a bit and share a cigarette? I have one left." Share. A. Cigarette. Is this what the young people are doing these days? No more "can I have your number?" or "can I see you again?" Just an offer to suck a communal cancer stick on the sidewalk? Classy.

"No thanks." I'm way too tired for this. I think I need a drink. Where's that wine again?

Kiss the rings I'm out,
Librarian Girl


Anonymous said...

Oh no! I really, truly, love me some red wine. White on the other hand... blech.

I am also an early to bed type these days. Sigh.

Librarian Girl said...

I know this post is going to bring on comments from all the red wine lovers out there. That's ok...I love things that are unexplainable too. Like Pee Wee's Big Adventure, for example.

Sauntering Soul said...

I'm with Leah. Red is yum. White is not yum.

And my job kicks my butt so bad that I'm shocked I'm still awake right now (it's currently 6:15 on Friday night here on the east coast). 30 minutes from now I can't guarantee that I won't be out cold.

Anonymous said...

Well, I'll side with Librarian Girl - red wine. . . not so good. Though I sometime find a good bottle. I like the sparkly stuff.

french panic said...

Really good red wine does exist - it is merely atrociously expensive. But I am with you, Librarian Girl, everybody becomes a snotbag when it comes to red wine, and no one likes to discuss the virtues of a dry white. I still don't understand what the hell was so fantastic about the movie Sideways.

Josh said...

I know I'm Mr. Broken Record, LG, but I'm a fan of red too. But a nice white is also good. I'm wine ambidextrous.

Which reminds me of a time I was working a private party, pouring a bottle of white in my left hand and a bottle of red in my right. "You're really good at handling both those bottles at the same time," a woman said to me.

And while I said, "Thanks," I was thinking, "Yup. Just another benefit from the years of ambidextrous masturbating."

Librarian Girl said...

Oh, Josh. You are proving my point that wine drinkers are classy. The height of classicity, really.

Katie Kiekhaefer said...

Honestly I'm not a fan of either. Yes, I'm admitting it, I don't really like wine. I'll drink if the moment seems right or if I'm in the mood but honestly I'm a beer girl (but good beer!) So unclassy.


Anonymous said...

I truly love red too. And white. And beer. Perhaps I just lurve booze? But Pee Wee's Big Adventure? HATE! hee hee.

I am also an early to bed girl these days too. And I am still laughing about the sharing a cigarette biznass. At least now you can be pretty confident you were smoking hot a la NYC rock star versus Johnny Cash, right? (Not that I would have doubted it!)

Kaijsa said...

Ugh, wine. I'm all about the cocktails and white wine if that's the only option. I feel you on the red wine hate--besides tasting like butt, it gives me headaches and heartburn.

So, was the cig-sharin' waiter cute?

Librarian Girl said...

Yeah, he was cute, come to think of it. The kind I would have dated in my early 20s.

What a grandmaw statement that was.