Part 1 of the evening took place at my friend's house where we met up to store my vehicle and my pet Labrador for the evening as we primed for the evening in advance of heading off to rendez-vous with my regular team of drinkers to take part in this weeks Old Man Drink.
Bored with the same old gin and vodkda martini's? Swap in some Kentucky whiskey and you've got yourself a Dry Mahoney, the perfect capper to a day spent overseeing your plantation. Relax in the wood-paneled splendor of your local gentleman's club and drift away...
I wish my old mother were here today. Oh wait, no I don't! Not today anyway! [Laughs, pauses, makes sign of cross] Ah, and right - sorry then, Mum. Didn't mean it. Honest."
- Robert, 81, Sailor
1/2oz dry vermouth
I'd just like to say, if this drink is like overseeing your plantation than now might be a good time for reparations or more specifically they should be focused towards my pal who offered me a place to crash for the night! I've never been a huge fan of Martini's, having only had one or two through the years - I had always assumed it was the olive but now I've got to re-think that. Pretty sure its the vermouth. YUCK. Its got a signature aroma somewhere between 'hospital' and 'sweat'. Thankfully the bourbon outnumbered it 5-to-1 so that at least gave me a fighting chance. Three drinks later it still didn't taste any better but I was into Full Party mode (thanks in small part to the 3 bottles of cider that preceded them).
Fast-forward 4 hours into the future and the carnage left in my wake looked like something out of 3 Mile Island.
- Instigating a fight with random girl in line at the club for saying she was from Hamilton; Check.
- 'Claiming' the beverage of one of my friends and guzzling it down once caught; Check.
- Ejecting myself from the bar for excessive drunkenness only to realize 3 blocks later that the friend I was staying with was still on the dancefloor prompting this gem of a text message sequence:
- Friend: Text me, dancing downstairs by pillar
- Me: Little drunk outside. @ 7--1. Dunsmuir & Seymour south side (nice to know my internal compass is still spot on when I'm blind drunk)
- Friend: R u done. shall we meet you outside?
- (15mins later)
- Friend: Have you got T's coat?
- Me: No I have my coat.
- Friend: Ok we're coming out now 2 meet u, stay by door :-)
- Once outside I was badgering one of my friends for about an hour on some ridiculous tirade until she fell and twisted her ankle then went home.
- I fell 3 times on the way to my friends including wrapping myself around a knee-high chain fence and face-planting into the snow.
- Got back to my buddy's place and was poured into bed only to emerge 20mins later with my shirt pulled up to my neck, hand over my mouth and failing to hold back the contents on my way to the rest room. (I will give the 2 dogs a big assist on helping to clean-up. That's all I think I need to say here.)
In a wacky twist of fate I'm thinking the next drink on the docket should have both gin AND vermouth. That sounds like it couldn't possibly go wrong...