Choosing Wine.

This task, invariably, is a nightmare.

For some reason I’ve retained a subconscious knee-jerk habit (possibly from cycling everywhere) where I seem to convince myself that it’s not worth buying something heavy at the beginning of your journey if you’re not drinking it till the end. Hence the reason I end up sitting on public transport going to Stacey’s dinner party without the requisite bottle of wine, safe in the knowledge that I’ll pick one up closer to the destination and that I’m keeping my weight down and conserving energy for… for what? All the energetic conversation I’ll be engaging in across the dinner table?

Why do I even need to bring a bottle of wine? Stacey has plenty of wine, guests bringing an extra bottle is essentially just the socially accepted currency for paying for the overwrought meal her and her fiance are cooking up. Why can’t we, as a society, just cut this bullshit out and offer up a bill at the end of a dinner party instead? If it meant me not having to find wine, I’d happily pay, hell, I’d even tip.

Of course, the location of the dinner party is in a part of town that happily relies on the bare minimum of services needed for an area to survive before gentrification fills it with stuff you didn’t realize anyone needed. Hence, the only businesses you can find once you step off the train are a closed cafe, a laundromat, and a corner store masquerading as a small supermarket. At the back of that corner store you know you’ll find your only shot at sourcing some wine this late in the game, short of getting back on the train and returning to the last neighborhood that has ‘wine shop’ currently within their gentrification arc. But because your friends have chosen to buy a house, they’re in an area whose arc is still a good 5 years away from reaching those lofty heights of pretentiousness. “Fuck you housing bubble” you reason.

So you take the gamble and walk into the corner store and arrive at the wine section, 80% of which is made up of Sauvignon Blanc, which you just know Stacey will inform you everyone stopped drinking about 5 years ago. Is it poor form, you wonder, to turn your nose up at Sauvignon Blanc if you’ve moved into a suburb where the local corner store’s stock list clearly indicates the local demographic of that suburb actually quite enjoy Sauvignon Blanc?

Fuck you Stacy, what ever happened to embracing the community? you think as you grab the most inoffensive bottle (see attached infographic) and pay the weary eyed attendant who’s seen your type at least three times just tonight. Why are you even going to this party you wonder; it’s a Saturday night for fuck’s sake! You should be out in a bar seeing a band in a basement with inadequate fire escapes. Then again, you reason, you’re pretty sick of crowds in general and the stench of stale beer and body odor just isn’t as appealing as it used to be and frankly, for some baffling reason you don’t have the disposable income you did at 20, so an evening in the suburbs drinking this $7 bottle of whatever-the-hell with a bunch of late 20 somethings doing their best impersonation of sophisticated adults is probably your best bet at this stage.

Unless they start discussing mortgages, in which case you’ll feel justified drinking as much of Stacey’s far superior wine as possible and staggering out of there with some bullshit excuse about ‘work in the morning’ and then with any luck catch the end of the last set at the bar.

. . .

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