I went looking for a drink.
It was time for a journey, and luckily I have just friend to drag with me. He is either camera shy, has a warrant out, or there is something really cool he isn't telling me about. So we brought along two masks made with the latest technology, creating a perfect disguise. The car was packed and we set out FOR ADVENTURE!
There is a distillery about an hour and a half west of me, where, if you show up and give them ten dollars, they will (like Lydia) show you the world (but without all the nudity). When we arrived there was a welcoming porch, pleasant rocking chairs, a fridge full of beer and wine, an honor box, and a note politely asking for a donation if you wanted to have a drink while you wait. Now, I never carry cash, because I am not a freak or an old person unable to accept modern life, so I had nothing for the honor box. I am certain that Thompson stole a beer or two though. The bastard. Then we climbed on the wagon with the other tour-goers and headed towards destiny.
They took us through the hooch making process. There were words and gestures and walking. It was very infotaining, but I couldn't help but think this was all to put off giving me my damn booze. I heard the call of the "White Dog", the pre-barrel distilled spirit, my ice cream before dinner, the first of two stops for which i drove so far. Then they handed me a thimble of clear happy liquid. And with it, a warning, "160 Proof." I have certainly had better things, but this was... exciting. That thimble was way deeper than it looked. There must have been some other things and goings on after that, a bottle-neck may have been waxed, some chocolate may have gone missing, and, just before someone handed me a sniffer of bourbon, a limpy dog could have given me a weird look. I liked the dog, but I liked the bourbon more. My second stop, the last stage of the whiskey life-cycle was my favorite.
After the tour we considered going to one of the wineries, luckily, we drove another half hour west to Oktoberfest instead. Here is what you need to know, Oktoberfest is a challenge, a test of how far you can go before you have gone too far. If your thing is food, how much is just this side of inappropriate? Like beer, how many before the cops are called? Enjoy social interaction, when does a casual joke become a restraining order? There were a number of fried foods, dark beers, and furtive glances down cleavage. Oktoberfest is where Normal goes to really live.
The drive back gave us time for reflection. We had that day seen some of the natural beauty of Texas, driven down a lonely dirt road with Texas' first legal distillery at it's end, drank White Dog, sniffed bourbon, snuck off to Germany, ate a crawfish sausage, and basically had an adventure. A good day by any measure. I was happy to have accomplished what I set out to do, and, while I didn't find my scotch that day, I did have a drink.
