Act II, Scene I: Friends Along the Path

I've been trying whiskeys.  At home, alone, under a blanket by flashlight.  I sip and ponder.  The booze is good, or, at a minimum drinking booze is usually more fun than not drinking booze.  I try to think about the flavors and circumstances of the whiskies, but lately something else has been in my think-brain.  I started all this to find a scotch to drink with my friend, but I'm drinking by myself.  Hardly seems right. Right?

So, now that I have a selection of drinkies, I think the next thing to do is test them out on friends.  You know, see which ones drink best in good company!  It is a brilliant plan.  I wonder if I have any friends who drink.  Hrm... I can think of a few: Omar - old friend, infinitely capable, exceedingly good to pal around with, and a bit of an angry drunk when it comes to brown liquors; Diego - older friend, epic drinker, finds adventures as easily as some people find herpes, still angry I won't/can't go drinking in Japan with him; Thomas - middle-old friend, Goat Boy, hatchet-assed breaker of chairs, owns a child named Thor, drinks like a child named Thor.  These shall be my drunk little guinea piggies.

I have spent plenty of time drinking with Omar.  He's the kind of drinking friend who knows your jokes and you know his.  There is a rhythmic rapport to drinking with Omar.  It always starts like the first lines of an excellent knock-knock joke.  The in- jokes, gags, one-liners, movie references, and non sequiturs gain momentum, eventually chugging along with the glasses until the last drop of the evening. A strange and entertaining thing, the drink shared with a friend.

I'll discuss in depth next time, over The Duke.

a picture: